Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 Anna Karenin
 Part III
 Part IV
 Part V
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Group Title: The Complete Works of Count Tolstoy
Title: The complete works of Count Tolstoy
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00094187/00010
 Material Information
Title: The complete works of Count Tolstoy
Uniform Title: Works ( 1904 )
Physical Description: 24 v. : fronts., plates, ports., facsims. ; 24 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Tolstoy, Leo, 1828-1910
Wiener, Leo, 1862-1939 ( ed. and tr )
Publisher: D. Estes & Co.
Place of Publication: Boston
Publication Date: 1904-05
Edition: Limited ed. Translated from the original Russian and edited by Leo Wiener.
Genre: non-fiction   ( marcgt )
festschrift   ( marcgt )
Additional Physical Form: Also issued online.
General Note: Half-title.
General Note: "Édition de luxe, limited to one thousand copies." This set not numbered.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00094187
Volume ID: VID00010
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 02116920
lccn - 04024594


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Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter 1
        Front Matter 2
        Front Matter 3
        Front Matter 4
    Title Page
        Title Page 1
        Title Page 2
    Table of Contents
        Table of Contents 1
        Table of Contents 2
    List of Illustrations
        List of Illustrations 1
        List of Illustrations 2
    Anna Karenin
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Part III
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 10a
        Page 10b
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 22a
        Page 22b
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        Page 64b
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    Part IV
        Page 181
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        Page 304
        Page 305
        Page 306
    Part V
        Page 307
        Page 308
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    Back Matter
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    Back Cover
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Full Text

Chinsegut Hill

University of Florida

\OLLr'IE il.

Translated from the Original Russian and Edited by
Assistant Professor of Slavic Languages at Harvard University




Limited to One Thousand Copies,

of which this is

N o....4.1. l .......

Copyright, p104

Entered at Stationers' Hall

Colonial Press: Electrotyped and Printed by
C. H. Simonds& Co., Boston, Mass., U. S. A.



. 181


THE HARVESTER'S BREAKFAST (See page 25) Frontispiece
COME'" 457

1873- 1876
Parts III., IV., and V.


"Vengeance is mine, I will repay."



his mental labour, and instead of going abroad, as he
usually did, he arrived toward the end of May in his
brother's village. According to his convictions, country
life was the best. He now came to his brother's to en-
joy this life. Konstantin Levin was very glad, the more
so since he did not expect his brother Nikoliy during
that summer. And yet, in spite of his love and respect
for Sergy6y Ivanovich, Konstantin Levin was ill at ease
with his brother in the country. He felt ill at ease, even
annoyed, to see his brother's relation to the country.
For Konstantin Levin the country was a place of
abode, that is, of joys, suffering, labour; for Sergydy
Ivanovich the country was, on the one hand, a relaxa-
tion from labour, and, on the other, a useful antidote to
corruption, and he took it with pleasure and with the
consciousness of its usefulness. For Konstantin Levin
the country had this good in it, that it was a field for
unquestionably useful labour; for Sergy4y Ivanovich the


country was particularly good because there it was pos-
sible and necessary to do nothing. Besides, Sergy4y
Ivinovich's relation to the people annoyed Konstantin.
Sergyey IvAnovich said that he loved and knew the
masses, frequently conversed with the peasants, which
he could do well, without feigning and pretending, and
from every such chat deduced general data in favour of
the masses, and in proof of his knowing the people. Such
a relation to the masses did not please Konstantin Levin.
For Konstantin the masses were only the chief partici-
pants in the general labour, and, in spite of all the respect
and, as it were, blood love for the peasant, imbibed by
him, as he himself said, no doubt with the milk of his
peasant nurse, he, as a participant with them in the com-
mon labour, now and then went into ecstasy over the
strength, meekness, and justice of these men, and often
again, when in the common affair other qualities were
needed, flew into a fury at the masses for their reckless-
ness, sloth, drunkenness, and lying. If Konstantin Levin
had been asked whether he loved the people, he would
have been at a loss how to answer the question. He
loved and disliked the masses, just as any other people.
Of course, being a good man, he liked more people than
he disliked, and so it was with the masses. But he was
unable to love or dislike the masses as something by
itself, because he not only lived with the masses, and not
only were all his interests connected with them, but he
even regarded himself as a part of the masses, saw in
himself and in the masses no especial virtues or defects,
and could not put himself up against the masses. Be-
sides, although he had for a long time lived in the closest
relations with the peasants, as a master and rural judge,
and, above all, as an adviser (the peasants trusted him
and came from a distance of forty versts to get his ad-
vice), he had no definite opinion about the masses, and in
response to the question whether he knew them, he would


have been as much at a loss to answer as to the question
whether he loved them. For him to say that he knew
the masses would be the same as saying that he knew
individual men. He had been all the time observing and
meeting all sorts of people, among them individual peas-
ants, whom he considered good, interesting people, and
all the time noticed in them new features, changed his
old judgments about them, and formed new ones.
Sergy4y Ivanovich, on the contrary, just as he liked
and praised country life in contradistinction to the
one he did not like, even so he loved the masses in
contradistinction to that class of people which he did
not like, and even so he knew them as something differ-
ent from people in general In his methodical mind
there were clear conceptions of the definite forms of the
popular life, deduced partly from the popular life itself,
but mainly from the contrast. He never changed his
opinion about the masses and his sympathetic relation to
In any difference of opinion that arose in the judgment
of the brothers about the masses, Sergy4y Iv6novich
always vanquished his brother, even because Sergydy
Ivinovich had definite conceptions about them, their
character, qualities, and tastes; while Konstantin Levin
had no definite and unchangeable view, so that in their
discussions Konstantin was continually caught contra-
dicting himself.
To Sergy6y Ivanovich, his younger brother was a fine
fellow, with a well placed heart (as he expressed it in
French), but with a mind which, though sufficiently alert,
was none the less subject to the impressions of the minute
and therefore full of contradictions. With the condescen-
sion of an elder brother he now and then explained to him
the meaning of things, but could find no pleasure in dis-
puting with him, because he beat him too easily.
Konstantin Levin looked at his brother as at a man


of enormous intellect and culture, noble in the highest
sense of the word, and endowed with the ability to be
active for the common good. But in the depth of his
soul, the older he grew and the more intimately he became
acquainted with his brother, the oftener and oftener did it
occur to him that this ability to be active for the common
good, of which he felt himself absolutely deprived, might
after all be not a virtue, but a lack of something, not a
lack of good, honest, noble desires and tastes, but a lack
of the vital power, that which is called heart, that striving
which causes a man from all the endless paths of life that
present themselves to him to choose one and wish for
that one. The more he knew his brother, the more he
observed that SergyBy Ivdnovich, like many others who
were working for the common good, had not been led
by his heart to this love of the common good, but had by
reasoning arrived at the fact that it was good to attend to
this matter, and so busied himself with it. Levin was
confirmed in this supposition of his by the observation
that his brother took the questions of the common good
and of the immortality of the soul no more to heart than
a game of chess or the ingenious structure of a new
Besides, Konstantin Levin felt ill at ease with his
brother in the country, because in the country, especially
in the summer, he was constantly occupied with farm
matters, and the long summer day did not suffice for him
to accomplish all that was necessary, while SergyBy
Ivanovich rested himself. But, though he rested now,
that is, did not work on his book, he was so used to
mental activity that he was fond of uttering the thoughts
that occurred to him in a beautiful, compact form, and
wanted to be heard; but the most general and natural
hearer was his brother. Therefore, despite the friendly
simplicity of their relations, Konstantin felt embarrassed
to leave him alone. Sergy4y Ivanovich was fond of


lying down in the grass to bask in the sun and talk
You will not believe," he said to his brother, "what
eii jyment I derive from this Ukrainian indolence. There
is not an idea in the head, as though it were swept clean."
But it was tiresome for Konstantin Levin to sit and
listen, especially since he knew that without him the
manure would be hauled on the unplatted field and
would be heaped up God knew how, if he did not watch
it; and the coulters would not be screwed on to the
ploughs, but would be taken down, and then they would
say that coulter ploughs were a foolish device that could
not compare with the old-fashioned wooden ploughs, and
so forth.
"You have had enough walking in the sun," Sergydy
Ivanovich would say to him.
I have just to run to the office for a minute," Levin
would answer, running into the field.

IN the first days of June, nurse and stewardess Ag6fya
Mikhiylovna, who was taking a jar of newly pickled
mushrooms to the cellar, happened to slip and fall,
whereat she wrenched her wrist. There arrived the
young, talkative county physician, who was just fresh
from the university. He examined the hand and said that
it was not wrenched; he enjoyed a talk with the famous
Sergy6y Ivanovich Koznysh6v and, to show his enlight-
ened view of things, told him all the county gossip and
complained of the bad state of the County Council.
Sergy6y Ivanovich listened attentively and asked him
questions, and, incited by the new hearer, himself began
to talk. He enunciated a few pertinent and weighty
remarks, which were respectfully appreciated by the
young doctor, and came into the animated frame of
mind which was so familiar to his brother, and into
which he generally came after a brilliant and animated
conversation. After the doctor's departure, he wanted to
go to the river with a fishing-rod. SergyBy Ivanovich
was fond of fishing and seemed to be proud of liking such
a foolish occupation.
Konstantin Levin, who had to go to the tillage and the
meadows, offered himself to take his brother down in a
It was that time of the year, in the height of summer,
when the crops of the year are defined; when the cares
for the next year's sowing have begun, and the mowing is


at hand; when the rye is all headed and, grayish green,
wavesi in the win'.d with light, unfilled ears; when the
green oats, with the tafts ot yellow grass scattered among
them, unevenly mature over the late fields; when the
early buckwheat is already in the seed, concealing the
ground; when the fallows which the cattle have tramped
into a rocky mass, with the paths left through them,
which the plough does not take, are half-ploughed up;
when the drying manure heaps in the fields smell at day-
break and at evening twilight together with the honeyed
grass, and in the lowlands, awaiting the scythe, stands a
solid sea of well-kept meadows, with the black heaps of
the weeded sorrel.
It was that time when in the field labour there comes a
short period of rest before the beginning of the annually
repeated harvest which annually calls forth all the strength
of the masses. The crops were in excellent condition, and
the summer days were clear and warm,-and the nights
short and fresh with dew.
The brothers had to travel through the forest to get to
the meadows. Sergy6y IvTnovich all the time admired
the beauty of the rank-leaved forest, indicating to his
brother now an old linden, dusky from the shady side,
agleam with its yellow stipules, and ready to flower, and now
the emerald tree shoots of the present year. Konstantin
Levin did not like to talk or hear about the beauty of
Nature. Words for him detracted from the beauty of what
he saw. He assented to what his brother was saying, but
involuntarily began to think of something else. As they
emerged from the forest, all his attention was absorbed in
the contemplation of a fallow field on a mound, which
here was yellowed with grass, here rutted in squares, here
heaped in knolls, and here even ploughed up. Long files
of carts travelled over the field. Levin counted them and
was satisfied to find that everything necessary was being
hauled out, ad., at the sight of the meadows, his thoughts


were transferred to the question of the mowing. Driving
up to the meadow, Levin stopped his horse.
The morning dew was still nestling on the dense under-
growth of the grass, and Sergyey Ivinovich, to avoid wet-
ting his feet, asked his brother to take him in the cabriolet
to the willow bush near which perches bit well. Though
Konstantin Levin hated to crush his grass, he drove on
the meadow. The high grass softly wound about the
wheels and about the legs of the horse, leaving its seeds
on the spokes and hubs.
His brother sat down beneath the bush and began to
straighten out the line, while Levin took the horse a short
distance away. He tied it up and walked into the illim-
itable, grayish-green, becalmed sea of the meadow. In the
wet places the silky, ripening grass reached almost to the
Levin crossed the meadow and came out on the road,
where he met an old man with a swollen eye, who was
carrying a swarm-basket with bees.
"Well, did you catch any, Fomich ?" he asked.
"Indeed not, Konstantin Dmitrievich I am glad to
have kept my own. The mash fermented for the second
time Luckily the boys came up in time. They are
ploughing at home. They unhitched the horse and rode
up- "
What do you think, Fomich, shall I mow, or
wait ?"
Well, we generally wait to St. Peter's Day; but you
always mow earlier. Well, God willing, the grass is fine.
There will be some pasturage for the cattle."
And what do you think about the weather ?"
"That is God's affair. Maybe the weather will be all
Levin walked back to his brother.
The fish did not bite. But Sergy6y Iv6novich did not
feel dull and seemed to be in the happiest of moods.


Levin saw that, having Ie:-n stirreIl up by the doctor, he
wanted to talk; but Levin wanted to get home as soon as
possible, in order to make the proper arrangement about
taking the mowers out on the next day, and to decide his
doubt about the mowing, which troubled him very much.
"Well, let us go!" he said.
What is the use in hurrying ? Let us sit here awhile.
How drenched you are! The fish do not bite, but it is
nice here. Every sport is nice because you have to deal
with Nature. How charming this steely water is !" he
said. ." These meadow banks always remind me of a rid-
dle," he continued, "do you know it? The grass says to
the water: 'And we will sway to and fro, sway to and
I do not know this riddle," Levin replied, gloomily.

"Do you know, I have been thinking of you," said
Sergydy Ivanovich. It is shameful what they are doing
in your county, as the doctor has been telling me; he is
not at all a stupid fellow. I have been telling you, and I
tell you now: it is not good that you do not attend the
meetings and that you, in general, keep away from the
County Council. If decent people will keep away from
it, -everything will naturally go God knows how. We
pay out money which goes for salaries, and yet we have
neither schools, nor medical assistants, nor midwives, nor
apothecary shops, nor anything else."
I have tried," Levin said, softly and reluctantly, "I
cannot, so what is to be done ? "
What is it you cannot ? I positively fail to under-
stand it. Indifference, inability, I do not admit; could it
really be indolence ?"
Neither the one, nor the other, nor the third. I have
tried, and I see that I cannot do anything," said Levin.
He did not pay much attention to what his brother was
saying. He was looking beyond the river at a tilled field,
where he could make out a black spot; he could not tell
whether it was a horse, or his clerk on horseback.
Why can you not do anything? You have made an
attempt, and it did not turn out as you wanted it, and so
you surrender. How can you do without ambition ?"
"Ambition," said Levin, touched to the quick by his
brother's words," I do not understand. If I had been told


at the uuiv,.-ritv that oth-enr understood integral calculus
and I dlid not, there ,oul have been a case for ambition.
But here a man ha first to be convinced that it is neces-
sary to have, a spe iial ability for these things, and, above
all, that all thece thmin:s- ajr very important."
What, this is not important?" said Sergy4y Ivino-
vich, touched to the quick because his brother regarded as
unimportant that which interested him, and, more espe-
cially, because he hardly seemed to be listening to him.
It does not seem important to me; it does not rouse
me, so what will you do about it ?" replied Levin, having
made out that what he saw was the clerk, and that the
clerk had, no doubt, dismissed the peasants from the
ploughing. They were turning over their ploughs. Is it
possible they are through ploughing ? he thought.
Listen, really," his elder brother said, with a frown on
his handsome, intelligent face, there are limits to every-
thing. It is all very nice to be an odd and frank man, and
not to be fond of falsehood,--I understand it all; but
what you say has either no sense or a very bad sense.
How is it that you find unimportant the fact that the
masses whom you love, as you assure me-"
"I have never assured," thought Konstantin Levin.
"-are dying without receiving any assistance?
Coarse midwives kill the children, and the masses grow
up in stark ignorance and remain in the power of every
scribe, and you are given the means for aiding them, and
you do not aid them because, in your opinion, this is not
And Sergy6y IvAnovich placed a dilemma before him:
" Either you are so undeveloped that you cannot see what
you can do, or you do not wish to forfeit your peace, am-
bition, and I know not what, in order to do this."
Konstantin Levin felt that all he could do was to
surrender, or to acknowledge that he lacked love for
the common good. And this offended and grieved him.


Both," he said, with determination. I do not see
how it is possible "
What ? It is not possible, by properly investing the
money, to furnish medical assistance ? "
It is impossible, as it seems to me. Over the four
thousand square versts of our county, with our thaws,
snow-storms, and working season, I see no possibility of
furnishing medical assistance everywhere. And, besides,
I do not believe in medicine."
Excuse me, that is not just. I will give you a thou-
sand examples. Well, and schools?"
"What are the schools for ? "
"What are you saying ? Can there be any doubt about
the usefulness of education ? If it is good for you, it is
good for everybody."
Konstantin Levin felt himself morally pinned to the
wall, and so grew excited and involuntarily expressed
the chief cause of his indifference to the common good.
All this may be very well; but why should I bother
myself about establishing medical centres, which I never
make use of, and schools, whither I will not send my
children, and whither the peasants do not wish to send
theirs, and whither I am not yet firmly convinced that
they ought to be sent ? he said.
SergyBy Ivinovich was for a moment surprised to hear
this unexpected view of things; but he immediately formed
a new plan of attack.
He was silent for awhile, pulled out one rod, threw the
line into another place, and, smiling, turned to his brother.
You must excuse me. In the first place, the medical
centre has done you some good. We had to send for the
county doctor to look after Agifya Mikhaylovna."
"Well, I think that her hand will remain crooked."
"That is still a question. Then again, a literate peasant
and labourer is more useful and valuable to you."
No, you may ask whom you please," Konstantfn Levin


replied, with firmness, -" a literate man, as a labourer, is
much worse. You can't mend the roads with him, and if
he builds a bridge, he steals the material."
However," SergyBy IvAnovich said, with a frown, dis-
liking contradictions, especially such as kept jumping from
one subject to another, and disconnectedly introduced new
proofs, so that it became impossible to tell to what to
reply, however, this is a different matter. Excuse me :
do you acknowledge that education is good for the
people ?"
I do," said Levin. He immediately thought that he
had said something different from what he believed. He
felt that, from his admitting this, it would be proved to
him that he was talking nonsense. He did not know how
this would be proved to him, but he knew that this would
be proved to him logically, and he waited for this proof.
The proof was much simpler than Konstantin Levin
had expected it to be.
"If you acknowledge it to be good," said Sergyey Ivrno-
vich, "you, as an honest man, cannot fail to love this
matter and sympathize with it, and, therefore, to wish to
work for it."
"But I do not yet acknowledge it to be good," Kon-
stantin Levin said, blushing.
"What? You just said -"
"That is, I do not recognize it either as good or as
"That you cannot know, having made no effort."
"Well, let us suppose," said Levin, although he did not
at all suppose it, "let us suppose that it is so ; I still fail
to see why I should bother myself about it."
"How is that?"
"Well, since we have gone so far in our conversation,
explain it to me from the philosophical point of view,"
said Levin.
"I cannot understand what philosophy has to do with


it," said Sergy4y Ivanovich, in a tone which to Levin
seemed to imply that he did not recognize his brother's
right to talk philosophy. And this irritated Levin.
This !" he said, excitedly. I believe that the prime
mover of all our actions is, after all, our personal happiness.
Now, in the institutions of the County Council, I, as a
nobleman, see nothing which might conduce to my well-
being. The roads are no better, and cannot be better;
the horses take me over bad roads as well. I need no
doctors and no medical centres. I need no justice of the
peace, I never turn to him, and never will I not only
need no schools, but regard them even as harmful, as I
have told you. For me the establishments of the County
Council are merely the obligation to pay eighteen kopeks
for each desyatina, to journey to town, to sleep with bed-
bugs, and to listen to all kind of nonsense and trash, -
but my personal interest does not incite me."
Excuse me," Sergy4y Ivanovich interrupted him, with
a smile, "it was not personal interest that incited us to
work for the emancipation of the peasants, and yet we
No," Konstantin interrupted him, getting more and
more excited. The emancipation of the peasants was a
different matter. There was a personal interest connected
with it. We wanted to throw off the yoke which was
crushing us, all good people. But to be a member of the
Council, to discuss how many privy cleaners are needed,
and how the pipes are to be laid in town, where I do not
live, and to be a juryman and sit in judgment over a
peasant who has stolen a ham, and for six hours listen to
every kind of nonsense rattled off by the defence and by
the prosecuting attorneys, and to the presiding judge
asking my old peasant Aldshka, the tool, 'Defendant, do
you confess to the fact of the appropriation of the ham ?'
-' Eh ?'"
Konstantin Levin was carried away and began to repre-


sent the presiding judge and Aleshka the fool; it seemed
to him that that was part of his argument.
But Sergy4y Ivinovich shrugged his shoulders.
Well, what do you wish to say ? "
"All I want to say is that all the rights which touch
me my interests I shall always defend with all my
power; that, when the gendarmes used to make a domi-
ciliary search at the houses of us students, reading our
letters, I was ready with all my power to defend my
rights of education and of freedom. I understand military
service, which touches the fate of my children, my brothers,
and myself, and I am ready to discuss that which touches
me; but to discuss how to distribute forty thousand of
the county's money, or to sit in judgment over Alshka
the fool, I do not understand, and never shall understand."
Konstantin Levin talked as though the dam of his
words had broken. Sergy4y IvAnovich smiled.
To-morrow you may be under trial: well, would you
prefer to be tried in the old criminal court ?"
I shall not be under trial. I shall not cut anybody's
throat, and I do not need it. Come now! he continued,
jumping over to something quite irrelevant, our county
institutions and all that are like the little birches which we
stuck up, as on Whitsunday, that they might look like a
forest that has grown up in Europe, and I am not able
with my heart to water them and to believe in these
Sergy6y Ivanovich only shrugged his shoulders, to
express with this gesture surprise at the birches which
had suddenly made their appearance in their discussion,
though he saw at once what his brother meant to say
by them.
"Excuse me, but that is not the way to discuss," he
remarked. But Konstantin Levin wanted to justify his
defect, his indifference to the common good, of which
he was conscious, and so he continued:


I think," said he, that no activity can be durable if
it has not personal interest for its basis. This is a general,
a philosophical truth," he said, with determination repeat-
ing the word philosophical," as though wishing to show
that he, too, had a right, like anybody else, to talk of
Sergyey Ivanovich smiled once more. He, too, has a
philosophy of his own in the service of his inclinations,"
he thought.
You had better leave philosophy alone!" he said.
"The chief problem of the philosophy of all the ages has
consisted in finding that very connection which exists
between personal interests and the common good. But
that has nothing to do with the question; but what is to
the point is that I must correct your comparison. The
birches are not stuck up, but some of them are set out,
and some are planted, and they have to be taken care of.
Only those nations have a future, only those nations may
be called historical, which have feeling for what is im-
portant and significant in their institutions, and which
esteem them."
And Sergyey Ivanovich transferred the question into
the philosophico-historical sphere, which was inaccessible
to Levin, and showed him the whole injustice of his
As to your not liking it, you will pardon me for say-
ing so,-that is our Russian indolence and seigneurial
bearing, and I am convinced that in you it is a temporary
aberration which will pass."
Konstantin was silent. He felt that he was com-
pletely beaten; at the same time he felt that what he
had intended to say had not been understood by his
brother. What he did not know was why it had not been
understood, whether because he had been unable to
express clearly what he meant to convey, or because his
brother did not want to, or could not, understand him.


But he did not dwell on these thoughts, and, without
retorting to his brother, began to think of an entirely
different, personal matter.
Sergydy Ivanovich wound up his last fishing-line and
untied the horse, and they drove home.

THE personal matter, which had interested Levin dur-
ing his chat with his brother, was the following: the year
before he had one day come out to the mowing and, get-
ting angry at the clerk, had employed his means for
calming himself down, -he had taken a scythe from a
peasant and had started mowing himself.
He took such a liking to this work that he went out to
mow several times; he mowed the whole meadow in
front of his house, and during the spring of this last year
had formed the plan of going out to mow for days at a
time by the side of the peasants. Since the arrival of his
brother he had been in doubt whether he had better go
out to mow, or not. He felt it improper to leave his
brother for days at a time, and he was afraid that
his brother would make fun of him for it. But, as he
had walked over the meadow, he had recalled the impres-
sions received from the mowing, and he had almost
decided that he would mow. After the irritating conver-
sation with his brother, he again recalled his intention.
"I need physical motion, or else my character will
positively deteriorate," he thought, and so he decided that
he would mow, no matter how awkward he should feel
before his brother and before the peasants.
In the evening Konstantin Levin went to the office,
made his arrangements about the work, and sent word to
the villages to call out the mowers for the following day,
as the Viburnum Meadow, the largest and the most beau-
tiful, was to be mowed.


-" Ee sure and siendl my scythe to Tit, to get it in shape,
and have it brought out to-Lmrrow, if you please; I shall
probably be mowing myself," he said, trying not to be-
come t':Cl'ufsed.
The clerk smiled and said:
"Yes, sir."
In the evening, at tea, he told his brother about it.
"It looks as though the weather is settled," he said.
"To-morrow I begin mowing."
"I am very fond of this work," said Sergyey Ivinovich.
"I am passionately fond of it. I have mowed with the
peasants, and to-morrow I intend mowing the whole day."
Sergydy Ivinovich raised his head and looked with
curiosity at his brother.
"How is that ? With the peasants, the whole day ?"
"Yes. It is very pleasant work," said Levin.
"It is nice as physical exercise, but you will hardly
be able to stand it," Sergy4y Ivanovich said, without the
least sign of sarcasm.
I have tried it. At first it is hard, but later you get
accustomed to it. I think I shall not fall behind."
Indeed! Tell me, how do the peasants look upon it?
No doubt they make fun of their master's oddity."
No, I think not; but it is such merry and, at the same
time, such difficult work that there is no time left for
How are you going to dine with them ? Of course,
it would be awkward to send you Lafitte and roast turkey
"Not at all; when they rest, I shall drive home."
On the next morning Konstantin Levin got up earlier
than usual, but farm matters retained him, and when he
arrived at the mowing, the mowers were already taking
the second swath.
Even while he was on the hill, he saw at its foot the
shady, mowed part of the meadow, with the gray rows


and the black heaps of caftans, which the mowers had
doffed where they had started on the first swath.
In proportion as he approached, he saw more distinctly
the outstretched line of peasants, walking behind one
another and variously swinging their scythes, some of
them wearing their caftans, and others in nothing but
their shirts. He counted forty-two men.
They moved slowly over the uneven swale, where there
used to be a dam. A few of his own men Levin recog-
nized. Here was old man Ermil, in a very long white
shirt, bending over and swaying his scythe; here was the
young lad VWska, Levin's former coachman, who came
swooping down with his scythe. Here was also Tit,
Levin's mowing tutor, a small, lean peasant. He advanced
with his face forward, without bending, cutting down his
broad swath, as though playing with his scythe.
Levin dismounted and, having tied his horse near the
road, walked down to Tit, who from behind a bush
fetched out a second scythe, which he handed to him.
She is all right, sir: she shaves and mows herself,"
said Tit, taking off his cap with a smile, and giving him
the scythe.
Levin took the scythe and began to aim with it. The
perspiring, merry mowers, having ended their rows, came,
one after another, out on the road and, laughing, greeted
the master. They were all looking at him, but not one of
them said anything until a tall old man, with a wrinkled
and beardless face, wearing a sheepskin blouse, coming
out into the road, addressed him:
Look out, sir, you have taken hold of the rope, so
stick to it!" he said, and Levin heard a suppressed laugh
among the mowers.
I will try not to fall behind," he said, taking up his
position behind Tit, and waiting for the time to begin.
Look out," repeated the old man.
Tit made a place for him, and he followed him. The


grass was low, being by the road, and Levin, who had not
mowed for a long time, and was embarrassed by the glances
which were directed at him, at first mowed badly, though
he swung the scythe with all his might. Behind him
were heard the voices:
It is not well fitted; the snath is too high; see how
it makes him bend !" said one.
Press down with the snath end," said another.
"It's all right; it's going nicely," continued the old
man. See him go you are taking too broad a swath,
- you will wear yourself out The master is trying
hard for himself! Just look at the grass ridge How
we used to get it over our backs for such things!"
The grass grew softer, and Levin listened, without an-
swering, and walked behind Tit, trying to mow as well as
he could. They walked about a hundred paces. Tit
walked on without stopping, and showing no fatigue
whatever; but Levin began to feel terribly at the thought
that he should not hold out, so tired was he.
He felt that he was swinging the scythe with his last
strength, and decided to ask Tit to stop. But just then
Tit stopped of his own accord: he bent down, picked up
some grass, wiped off his scythe-blade, and began to whet
it. Levin pulled himself together and, drawing a deep
breath, looked around. Behind him a peasant was walk-
ing; he, too, was evidently tired, because, just before
reaching Levin, he stopped and began to whet. Tit
whetted his blade and that of Levfn, and they went on.
The same happened with the second attempt. Tit
walked swing after swing, without stopping and without
getting tired. Levin followed him, trying not to fall
behind, and it was getting harder and harder for him:
a moment arrived when he felt that he had no strength
left, but just then Tit stopped to whet.
Thus they went through the first row. This long row
seemed particularly hard to Levin; but when it was


ended, and Tit, shouldering his scythe, began with slow
steps to walk over the tracks left by his heels in his
swath, and Levin walked in the same manner over his
swath, he was happy, although the perspiration came
down his face in streams and dropped off his nose, and
his whole back was as wet as though it had been drenched
in water. What made him especially happy was that he
knew for certain now that he should hold out.
His pleasure was spoiled only by the fact that his row
was not good. I will swing less with my arm, and
more with my body," he thought, as he compared Tit's
straight-lined swath with his scattered and uneven row.
Levin noticed that Tit had walked the first row very
fast, no doubt wishing to test the master, and the row
happened to be a long one. The following rows were
easier, but Levin was none the less compelled to strain all
his strength in order not to fall behind the peasants.
He was thinking of nothing, wishing for nothing,
except that he might not fall behind the peasants and
that he might do his work well. He heard only the
clang of the blades, and saw before him Tit's advancing
straight figure, the semicircle of the swath, the slowly
bending, wavy grass, and the tops of the flowers near the
scythe-blade, and in front of him the end of the row,
where the rest would come.
Without becoming conscious what it was or whence
it came, he in the middle of his work suddenly experienced
a pleasant sensation of coolness over his warm, perspiring
shoulders. He looked at the sky during the whetting of
his scythe. A low, heavy cloud overcast the sky, and
it was raining in large drops. Some of the peasants went
for their caftans, which they put on; others, like Levin,
only joyfully shrugged their shoulders under the pleasant
and refreshing rain.
They passed another row, and still another. There
came long and short rows, with good and with bad grass.


Levin lost all consciousness of time and positively did not
know whether it was early or late. In his work now took
place a change which afforded him great pleasure. In the
middle of his work he was assailed by moments during
which he forgot what he was doing and he felt well, and
then his row was almost as even and as good as Tit's.
But the moment he recalled what he was doing and
tried to do better, he experienced the whole weight of
his labour, and the row turned out bad.
Having made one more row he wanted to start in again,
but Tit stopped and went up to an old man, to whom he
said something in a soft voice. They both looked at the
sun. What are they talking about, and why do they
not start in a new row?" thought Levin. It did not
occur to him that the peasants had been mowing not less
than four hours in succession, and that it was time for
them to eat their breakfast.
"Breakfast, master," said the old man.
"Is it already time for it ? Very well, let it be break-
Levin gave his scythe to Tit and, with the peasants
who went to their caftans for bread, went to his horse
over the rain-besprinkled rows of the long, mowed expanse.
It was only then that it occurred to him that he had not
guessed the weather right, and that the rain had drenched
his hay.
It will spoil the hay," he said.
"Never mind, sir! Mow in rain, rake up in good
weather !" said the old man. I
Levin untied his horse and rode homa to drink coffee.
Sergy4y Ivanovich had just gotten up., Having drunk
his coffee, Levin rode back to the meadow, before Sergy4y
Ivanovich had time to dress himself and come out to the

AFTER breakfast, Levin's row was no longer in the
former place, but between a jesting old man, who invited
him to be his neighbour, and a young peasant, who had
been married the autumn before, and with whom this was
the first summer of his mowing.
The old man held himself erect, walking ahead, evenly
and broadly placing his out-toeing feet, and with a pre-
cise and even motion, which evidently cost him no more
labour than the swinging of his arms in walking, as
though playing, laid low the straight, tall rows. It was
as though he had nothing to do with it, but as though
the sharp scythe all by itself swished over the lush grass.
Behind Levin walked young Mishka. His sweet,
youthful face, with its hair tied into a knot by a rope of
fresh grass, was labouring under painful effort; but the
moment any one looked at him, he smiled. He evidently
was prepared to die sooner than to acknowledge that it was
hard for him.
Levin walked between them. In the greatest heat the
mowing did not seem so hard to him. The perspiration
which drenched, him cooled him off, and the sun, which
burned his back, his head, and his arm, on which the
sleeve was rolled up as far as the elbow, gave him strength
and persistency in his work; and oftener and oftener
came those moments of his unconscious state when it was
possible not to think of what he was doing. The scythe
mowed of its own accord. Those were blissful moments.
Still more enjoyable were those minutes when, upon


reaching the river, against which the rows abutted, the
old man wiped his scythe with the wet, thick grass,
washed the blade in the fresh water of the river, filled his
dipper, and treated Levin to a drink.
Have some of my kvas Eh, good ? he said, with a
And indeed, Levin had never drunk such a beverage, as
this warm water with the swimming ooze and the rusty
taste from the tin dipper. And immediately after came
the blissful, slow walk, with the scythe in his hand,
during which he could wipe off the perspiration which
came down in streams, breathe with full lungs, and survey
the extended line of the mowers, and what was going on
all about him, in the forest and in the field.
The longer Levin kept mowing, the more frequently
did he feel those moments of oblivion, when not the
hands waved the scythe, but the scythe itself moved
along the whole self-conscious body which was full of
life, and, as though by magic, without giving it a thought,
the regular and distinct work proceeded of its own accord.
Those were the most blissful moments.
It grew hard only when it was necessary to put a stop
to this motion which had become unconscious, and to
think; when it was necessary to mow around a tuft or an
unweeded sorrel bed. The old man did this with ease.
When a tuft came, he changed the motion, and now with
the blade-point, and now with the snath-end, mowed
around the tuft in short jerks. And doing this, he observed
and examined everything which was before him: now he
plucked a gladiolus, which he ate himself or gave to Levin;
now he threw a branch away with the blade-point; now
he examined a quail's nest, out of which the mother bird
flew out underneath the very scythe; now he caught a
snake in his swath and, raising it with his scythe as with a
fork, he showed it to Levin and threw it away again.
To Levin and to the young fellow behind him these


changes of motion were hard. Both of them, having once
fallen into intensified motion, were in full blast of work
and unable to change this motion and at the same time to
observe what was before them.
Levin did not notice how the time passed. If he had
been asked how long he had been mowing, he would have
said that it was half an hour, though it was nearing mid-
day. Walking back to a new row, the old man directed
Levin's attention to boys and girls, who, barely visible,
were coming toward the mowers through the high grass
and along the road, carrying bundles with bread and rag-
stoppered kvas pitchers, which weighed their tiny hands
",I declare, the ladybugs are crawling up!" he said,
pointing to them, and, shielding his eyes, he looked at
the sun.
They passed two more rows, and then they stopped.
Well, sir, now it is time to eat dinner !" he said, in a
determined voice. And, upon reaching the river, the
mowers crossed the rows toward their caftans, where,
waiting for them, sat the children who had brought their
dinner. The peasants assembled, the more distant
ones under the carts, the nearer ones under a willow
bush, over which they threw some grass.
Levin sat down with them; he did not feel like riding
Every embarrassment in the presence of the master
had disappeared long ago. The peasants were getting
ready to dine. Some were washing themselves; the
young children swam in the river; others prepared a
place for rest, untied their bread wallets, and took the
stoppers out of their kvas pitchers. The old man crumbed
his bread into a bowl, crushed it with his spoon handle,
poured into it water from his dipper, cut up some more
bread, and, pouring some salt into it, began to pray to
the east.


Well, sir, have some of my pap," he said, kneeling
down before his bowl.
The pap was so savoury that Levin would not go home
to dinner. He dined with the old man and started to
talk with him about his domestic affairs, in which he took
a very lively interest, and communicated to him all his
affairs and circumstances which could interest the old
man. He felt himself nearer to him than to his brother,
and involuntarily smiled at the tenderness which he ex-
perienced for this man. When the old man again got up,
prayed, and lay down under the bush, putting some grass
under his head, Levin did likewise, and, in spite of the
pestering flies and bugs which whirled about in the sun
and tickled his perspiring face, he immediately fell asleep
and awoke only when the sun had gone over on the other
side of the bush and was beginning to get at him. The
old man had been awake for quite awhile and was sitting
up and getting into shape the scythes of the young lads.
Levin looked around him and did not recognize the
place: everything had changed so. An enormous extent
of the meadow was mown down and was shining with a
special, new splendour, with its already fragrant rows, in
the slanting rays of the evening sun. And the cleared
bushes at the river, and the river itself, invisible before,
and now sparkling with its steel at the bends, and the
moving and rising people, and the straight grass wall of
the unmown part of the meadow, and the hawks circling
over the bared meadow, -all that was absolutely new.
Shaking off his sleep, Levin began to consider how much
had been mowed already, and how much more could be
mowed on that day.
An unusually large amount of space had been covered
by the forty-two men.
The whole large meadow, which under manorial labour
was mowed by thirty scythes in two days, was already
mowed now. What was left to do was only the corners


with short rows. But Levin wanted to mow as much as
possible on that day, and he was vexed at the sun's setting
so soon. He felt no fatigue; he only wanted to work
faster and faster and as much as possible.
Well, do you think we shall have time to mow Lady's-
mantle Knoll? he asked the old man.
As God may wish. The sun is not high. Perhaps,
if you promised a little v6dka to the boys."
During the afternoon rest, when all sat down and those
who smoked lighted their pipes, the old man announced
to the lads," Mow Lady's-mantle Knoll and there will be
some v6dka."
"Why not? Get up, Tit We will go at it in lively
fashion You will have time to eat in the evening.
Start now !" voices were heard, and, finishing their pieces
of bread, the mowers started on new rows.
"Well, boys, look out! said Tit, starting almost at a
gallop in front of all.
"Go on, go on!" said the old man, hurrying after
him and easily catching up with him. Look out, I'll
cut you down "
And the young and old men seemed to have a mowing
contest. But, no matter how much they hurried, they
did not ruin the grass, and the rows went down as neatly
and as sharply as before. The corner lot was mowed
down in five minutes. The last mowers were still finish-
ing up their rows, when the front mowers had already
their caftans over their shoulders and had crossed the
road toward Lady's-mantle Knoll.
The sun was already descending toward the trees, when
they, tinkling with their dippers, entered the wooded
ravine of Lady's-mantle Knoll. The grass was waist-
high in the middle of the ravine, soft and tender and
fluffy, and here and there, along the forest, bright with
After a short consultation, whether they had better go


lengthwise or across, Prokh6r Ermflin, also a famous
Riower, a huge, tawny peasant, started out. He took a
row i a1 Jvance, turned back, and began to work, -and
all aligned themselves after him, going down-hill along
the ravine, and up-hill near the very edge of the forest.
The sun had sunk behind the wood. The dew was al-
ready falling. The mowers were in the sun only when
they reached the summit of the mound, but below, where
the mist was rising, and on the other side, they walked
in the fresh, dewy shade. The work was in full
The grass, which was cut down with a juicy sound,
and which emitted a spicy fragrance, lay down in tall rows.
The mowers, who on all sides crowded along the short
rows, tinkling with their dippers and clanging with their
scythes as they met, and swishing the whetstone along
the blades, urged each other on with merry shouts.
Levin was still walking between the young lad and the
old man. The old man, who had put on his sheepskin
blouse, was just as merry, jocular, and free in his motions.
In the forest they constantly came across boleti scabri,
which were of large size in the lush grass, and these they
cut down with their scythes. But the old man, upon see-
ing a boletus, each time bent down, picked it up, and put
it into his bosom. Another present for the old woman,"
he said each time.
However easy it was to cut the soft, weak grass, it was
hard to descend and mount the steep slopes of the ravine.
But this did not incommode the old man. Swaying his
scythe as before, he, with the short, firm steps of his feet,
which were clad in huge bast shoes, slowly climbed the
steep hill and, though his whole body shook, and the bag-
ging drawers below his shirt shook, too, he did not miss a
single blade of grass, nor a single mushroom, and continued
to jest with the peasants and with Levin. Levin followed
after him and often thought that he should certainly fall


as he climbed such steep hills with his scythe, where it
was hard to ascend even without one; but he climbed
them and did his work. He felt as though an external
force were pushing him on.

LADY'S-MANTLE KNOLL was mowed down; the last
rows were finished; the caftans were put on, and all went
merrily home. Levin mounted his horse and, regretfully
bidding the peasants good-bye, rode toward the house.
When he reached the summit of the hill he looked
around: the peasants could not be seen in the mist which
rose in the valley; he could only hear their merry, coarse
voices and laughter, and the sound of the scythes striking
against each other.
Sergyey Ivanovich had had his dinner and was drinking
iced lemonade in his room, looking through the newspapers
and periodicals which had just been received by mail, when
Levin, with his hair matted on his brow from perspiration,
and with blackened, wet back and chest, broke into his
room with a joyful chatter.
"We have mowed down the whole meadow Oh, how
nice! Wonderfully so! What have you been doing ?"
said Levin, having entirely forgotten their unpleasant con-
versation of the previous day.
0 Lord, how you look!" said Sergydy Ivinovich,
for a moment surveying his brother with dissatisfaction.
" The door, shut the door!" he exclaimed. I am sure
you have let a dozen in."
Sergy6y Ivanovich could not bear the flies, and in his
room opened the windows only at night, and carefully
shut the doors.
"Upon my word, not one. And if I have let them in,


I will catch them. You would not believe me what a
pleasure it is How did you pass the day ?"
I passed it nicely. You do not mean to say you have
been mowing all day ? You must be as hungry as a wolf.
Kuzmd has prepared everything for you."
"No, I do not feel like eating. I ate there. But I want
to go to wash myself."
Well, go, go, and I will come to see you directly," said
SergyBy Iv6novich, shaking his head and looking at his
brother. "Go now, go at once," he added, smiling, and,
collecting his books, he got ready to go. He himself
began to feel merry and did not wish to part from his
brother. "Well, and where were you during the rain?"
It was not much of a rain, just a sprinkle. And so
I will be back in a minute. So you have passed a pleas-
ant day ? That's nice." And Levin went away to dress
Five minutes later the brothers met in the dining-room.
Though Levin thought that he was not hungry and seated
himself at the table merely not to offend Kuzm6, the din-
ner seemed unusually savoury to him when he began to
eat. Sergy6y Iv6novich looked at him smiling.
Oh, yes, there is a letter for you," he said. Kuzm6,
please, bring it up. And be sure that you have shut the
The letter was from Obl6nski. Levin read it aloud.
Obl6nski wrote from St. Petersburg:
I have had a letter from Dolly, she is in Ergushdvo,
and everything is going wrong there. Just drive down to
Ergush6vo and give her the benefit of your advice, you
know everything. She will be so glad to see you. She is
all alone, poor woman. My mother-in-law is still abroad
with all of them."
That's very nice! I will drive down by all means,"
said Levin. Say, let us both go! She is such a fine
woman, don't you think so ?"


"And are they f.r from here ?"
*. Some thirty versts, or maybe forty; but the road is
excellent. We shall have a fine ride."
It will give me pleasure," said Sergyey Iv6novich, still
The sight of his younger brother directly disposed him
toward merriment.
"I must say you have an appetite !" he said, looking at
his dark red, sunburnt face and neck, which were bent
over the plate.
"Excellent! You don't know what a useful regimen it
is against all nonsense. I want to enrich medical science
by a new term, and that is Arbeitskur."
"Well, I do not think you need it."
No; but it is good for all kinds of nervous patients."
"Yes, we must make a test of it. I wanted to go out to
the mowing to take a look at you, but the heat was so
unbearable that I did not get farther than the forest. I
remained there awhile and then went through the woods
to the village; I met your nurse and I sounded her in
respect to the opinion which the peasants hold of you.
As I understand it, they do not approve of it. She said
that it was not a gentleman's business. In general, I
think that in the popular conception there are certain
well-defined demands made on what they term a 'gentle-
man's' activity. They do not permit gentlemen to emerge
from the frame as it has become defined in their concep-
Perhaps; but it is a pleasure, such as I have never
experienced in all my life. And there is nothing bad
about it. Don't you think so ?" replied Levin. What can
I do if they do not like it? However, I think it is all
right. Eh ?"
As I see," continued Sergydy Ivanovich," you are sat-
isfied with your day."
"Very much so. We have mowed down the whole


meadow. And I have there made the acquaintance of
such a fine old man You can't imagine how nice he i-! "
So you are satisfied with your day. I am, too. In
the first place, I have solved two chess problems, one of
which is just superb, -it opens with a pawn. I will
show it to you. And then, I have been thinking of yes-
terday's conversation."
"What? Of yesterday's conversation?" said Le .iu,
blinking blissfully, and blowing after his dinner, and
failing positively to recall what that yesterday's conver.-i-
tion had been about.
I find that you are partly right. Our difference con-
sists in your making personal interest a prime mover
while I assume that the interest for the common good
must be shown by every man who stands on a certain
level of culture. Maybe you are right in supposing :hat
a materially interested activity would be more desirable.
You are altogether too primesautiere a nature, as the
French say; you want an impassioned, energetic activity,
or nothing at all."
Levin listened to his brother, and positively did not
understand and did not want to understand a thing. He
was only afraid lest his brother should ask him a question
which would disclose the fact that he had not heard
"That's it, my dear," said Sergy4y Ivanovich, touching
his shoulder.
Yes, of course. What of it ? I do not insist," replied
Levin, with a childish, guilty smile. What was it we
had been discussing?" he thought. "Of course, I am
right, and he is right, and everything is well. But I must
go to the office to leave orders." And he got up, stretch-
ing himself, and smiling.
SergyBy Iv~novich, too, smiled.
If you want to take a walk, let us go together," he
said, loath to leave his brother, who breathed freshness


and alairity. ** C.mie, let us go to the office, if you have
any l.'asitess there."
"- U Lord!" Levin exclaimed so loudly that Sergy6y
Ivgnovich was frightened.
"What is the matter? What ?"
"How is Agdfya Mlikhaylovna's wrist?" asked Levin,
striking his head. "I had entirely forgotten about her."
Much better."
"But I had better run down to see her. I will be
back before you have time to put on your hat."
And the heels of his boots made a noise like a rattle,
as he ran down-stairs.

WHILE Stepn Arkadevich had gone to St. Petersbu r
to perform a most natural and necessary duty of remiud-
ing the ministry of his existence,- a duty which is -
familiar to office-holders, though incomprehensible to lay-
men, and without which there is no possibility of serving,
-and while he pleasantly and merrily passed his time
at the races and in the summer resorts, having taken with
him nearly all the money in the house, for the purpose ift
performing his duty, Dolly went to stay with the chil-
dren in the country, in order to diminish the expenses as
much as possible. She went to Ergush6vo, the village *:f
her dower, the one of which the timber had been sold in
the spring, and which was about fifty versts from Leviu's
In Ergush6vo the large old mansion had long beeu a
ruin, and the wing had been fixed up and enlarged by the
prince. Some twenty years before, when Dolly was
a child, the wing had been habitable and comfortable,
though, like all wings, it stood sidewise toward the drive-
way and the south. Now this wing was old and decay-
ing. In the spring, when Stepan ArkAdevich went there
to sell the timber, Dolly had asked him to examine the
house and have all the necessary repairs made. Stejln
Arkadevich, who, like all guilty men, was very much c('n-
cerned about his wife's comforts, had himself examined
the house and given the orders for what he considered to
be the necessary repairs. To his thinking, it was nee5-
sary to have all the furniture covered with new cretonne,


to have the curtains hung, the garden cleaned, a bridge
built near the pond, and flowers planted; but he forgot a
number of necessary things, the lack of which later wore
out Ddrya Aleks6ndrovna.
No matter how much Step6n Arkadevich tried to be a
considerate father and husband, he could not bring him-
self to remember that he had a wife and children. He
had bachelor tastes, and he arranged his life only in ref-
erence to them. Upon his return to Moscow, he proudly
informed his wife that everything was ready, that the
house would be a veritable toy, and that he advised her
very much to go there. To Stepdn Arkadevich his wife's
departure for the country was in every way acceptable:
it was good for the children's health, and the expenses
would be cut down, and he would be freer. On the other
hand, Darya Aleksindrovna considered her stay in the
country during the summer a necessity on account of
the children, especially for the sake of her little girl, who
could not recuperate from the scarlet fever, and also that
she might escape petty humiliations and petty debts,-
to the wood dealer, the fishmonger, the shoemaker,--
which had been wearing her out. Besides, her departure
gave her also pleasure because she hoped to induce her
sister Kitty, who was to return from the watering-place
in the middle of summer, and who had been ordered
to take baths, to stay with her in the country. Kitty had
written to her from the springs that nothing was so entic-
ing to her as that she would pass a summer with Dolly at
Ergush6vo, which was full of reminiscences of childhood
for both of them.
The first part of her country life was full of tribulation
for her. She had lived there in her childhood, and she
had an impression that the country was a refuge from all
city annoyances, and that life, though not attractive (with
that Dolly would easily put up), was inexpensive and
comfortable there: everything was there; everything was


cheap; everything could be got, and the children would
be happy. But now that she came into the country a? a
housekeeper, she saw that it was not at all as she h.id
expected it.
On the day following their arrival there came a down-
pour, and in the night the rain leaked through in the
corridor and in the nursery so that the cribs had to
be transferred to the drawing-room. There was no cooi'k
for the manor. Of the nine cows it turned out, accord in.
to the statement of the cow tender, that some had not yet
come in, others were with their first calf, or old, or hard
milkers: there was no butter and no milk even for the
children. Eggs there were none. Chickens could not be
procured, and they had to boil and roast old, livid-
coloured, tough roosters. It was not possible to _et
women to wash the floors, they were all working in
the potato-fields. They could not go out driving, because
one horse was restive and tugged at the shaft. Tlere
was no spot in which to bathe, because the whole river
bank was tramped over by the cattle and open from the
road; there was even no place for walks, because the
cattle got into the garden through a broken fence, ajbd
there was one terrible bull that bellowed and, therefore,
no doubt would butt. There were no closets for the
clothes; such as there were could not be shut, or open'u-
of their own accord every time somebody passed by them.
They had no pots; nor was there a kettle for the laundry
or an ironing-board for the maids' room.
When, instead of rest and calm, Darya Aleksandrov\na
came upon what from her standpoint were terrible cala mi-
ties, she at first was in despair: she was worrying all the
time, felt the hopelessness of her situation, and .ill
the time held back the tears that came to her eyes. The
superintendent, an ex-sergeant-major, to whom Ster.in
ArkAdevich had taken a liking and whom he had promoted
to this dignity from the post of a porter for his hands'ouw


and respectful looks, took no interest in Dirya Aleksdn-
dro:vna's calamities, and only said, "Impossible, -they
are all such a miserable lot," and gave her no assistance.
The situa.tn seemed to be hopeless. But in the house
of the CObluskis, as in all families, there was one unnoticed
but very inip'ortant and useful person, namely, Marya
Filimrnov:na. She quieted the lady, assured her that
-everythlng was coninbg on (that was her byword, and
Matvy4y had taken it up from her), and herself acted
without haste or agitation.
She immediately struck up an acquaintance with the
clerk's wife, and on the very first day drank tea with her
and her husband under the acacias, where they discussed
all matters. Soon Marya Filimonovna's club was es-
tablished under these trees, and here, through this club,
which consisted of the clerk's wife, the village elder, and
the clerk, the hardships of life were slowly removed, and
in a week things actually began to come on. The roof
was mended; a cook was procured, she was a friend of
the elder's; chickens were bought; the cows began to
give milk; the garden was fenced in with poles; the
carpenter made a mangle; hooks were put into the closets
so that they no longer opened of their own accord; and
an ironing-board, wrapped in soldier cloth, was laid from
the arm of a chair to a chest of drawers, and the odour
of hot irons proceeded from the maids' room.
"And you have been despairing all the time," said
M6rya Filim6novna, pointing to the board.
They even built a bathhouse out of straw shields.
Lily began to bathe, and at least part of Ddrya Aleksin-
drovna's expectations of a comfortable, if not a calm, coun-
try existence was realized. Calm she could not be with
her six children. One child grew ill; another might be-
come ill; a third was lacking this or that; a fourth showed
symptoms of a bad character, and so forth, and so forth.
Short calm periods were very, very rare. But these cares


and disturbances were for her the only possible happiness.
If these had not been, she would have been left alone
with her thoughts of her husband who did not love her.
Besides, no matter how hard the fear of impending
diseases, the diseases themselves, and the sorrow at the
discovery of symptoms of bad inclinations in her children
were for the mother, the children themselves even now
paid her with small joys for her sorrows. These joys
were so trifling as to be unnoticeable, like gold in the
sand, and in evil moments she saw only her grief, only
the sand; but there were also good moments, when she
saw nothing but joys, nothing but the gold.
Now, in the solitude of the country, she began oftener
and oftener to be conscious of these joys. Frequently, as
she looked at them, she made every effort to convince
herself that she was under a delusion, that she was, like
a mother, biassed in their favour. Still, she could not
help saying to herself that she had excellent children, all
six of them, each, in his or her way, such as could not
easily be found, and she was happy with them, and
was proud of them.


TOWARD the end of May, when everything was more or
less in running order, she received her husband's reply
to her complaints about the disorder in the country. In
this letter he begged her forgiveness for not having con-
sidered everything, and promised to come at the first
opportunity. This opportunity did not present itself, and
up to the beginning of June D6rya Aleksindrovna lived
all alone in the country.
During St. Peter's Fast, on a Sunday, Darya AleksAn-
drovna took all her children to mass to receive the
communion. In her intimate, philosophic chats with
her sister, mother, and friends, she frequently surprised
them by her free thought in matters of religion. She had
her own strange religion of metempsychosis, in which she
believed firmly, troubling herself little about the dogmas
of the Church. But in her family she strictly carried out
all the injunctions of the Church, not merely to give
an example, but with her whole soul, and that the
children had not been to communion for nearly a year
troubled her very much, and so, with Marya Filim6novna's
full consent and sympathy, she decided to perform this
rite now, in the summer.
Darya Aleksandrovna several days before began to
think of how to dress the children. The dresses were
made, altered, and washed, the tucks and hems let out,
the buttons sewed on, and the ribbons all fixed. One
dress, for TAnya, which the English governess undertook
to make, put Darya Aleksandrovna out of countenance.


The governess, in altering it, had made the seams in the
wrong place, cut out the armholes too much, and almost
ruined the dress. It pulled up at the shoulders so dread-
fully that it was painful to see Tanya in it. But Marya
Filim6novna suggested that it be pieced and that a
pelerine be added. Matters were mended, but it almost
came to a quarrel between Darya Aleksandrovna and the
governess. On the following morning, however, things
were in good shape, and toward nine o'clock, until
which time the priest had been asked to wait with the
mass, the dressed-up children, beaming with joy, stood at
the porch, before the carriage, waiting for their mother.
By Marya Filim6novna's intervention, the clerk's
Browny was hitched to this carriage, in the place of
restive Raven, and Darya Aleksandrovna, who had been
detained by the cares of her toilet, came out dressed in
a white muslin robe, ready to take her seat.
Darya Aleksandrovna had attended to her coiffure and
toilet with anxiety and agitation. Formerly she used to
dress herself for her own sake, in order to be pretty and
please; then, the older she had grown, the more disagree-
able it had become for her to dress up: she saw that she
had lost her good looks; but now she again dressed with
pleasure and agitation. Now she dressed herself not for
her own sake, for the sake of her beauty, but in order
that she, the mother of these darlings, might not spoil the
general impression. And, looking for the last time into
the mirror, she was satisfied with herself. She was
pretty, not as pretty as she had been, as she had wished
to be at a ball, but sufficiently pretty for the purpose
which she now had in view.
In the church was nobody but the peasants, the inn-
keepers and their wives. But Darya Aleksandrovna saw,
or thought she saw, the delight evoked by her children
and by herself. The children were not only beautiful in
their gala attire, but also in the manner in which they


hbre, themsehlhes. It is true, Al4sha did not stand exactly
right: he- kept turning around, wishing to see his blouse
f'r.mi behind; ;till, he was uncommonly sweet. Tinya
t,:,1jl like a gri:wn person and watched the little folk.
But the- yi:uug.-t, Lily, was charming with her naive
admir.iti: n o:f everything in front of her, and it was hard
t.': repre: a inle when, after communion, she said in
English, Please, some more !"
On their way home, the children felt that something
solemn had happened and were very good.
At home, too, everything went well; but at breakfast
Grisha began to whistle and, what was worse still, dis-
obeyed the governess, and so he was to go without cake.
Dirya Aleks6ndrovna would not have allowed such a
punishment on that day if she had been present; but it
was necessary to sustain the decision of the governess,
and so she confirmed her decree that Grisha would get no
cake. This spoiled the general joy a little.
Grisha cried, saying that Nik6lenka whistled and was
not punished, and that he was not crying on account of
the cake, -that was all the same to him, but because
they were unfair with him. That was too sad, and Dirya
Aleksandrovna decided to have a talk with the governess
in order to get Grisha pardoned, and so went to see her.
But, upon passing through the parlour, she saw a scene
which filled her heart with such joy that tears came to
her eyes, and she herself forgave the culprit.
The punished boy was sitting in the parlour on the
corner window; Tinya was standing near him with a
plate. Under the pretext of wanting a dinner for her
dolls, she had asked the governess's permission to take a
piece of cake to the nursery, and instead had taken it to
her brother. He kept eating the cake which was brought
to him, complaining all the time of the unfairness of the
punishment meted out to him,. and said through sobs,
"Eat yourself, we will eat together together."


Tanya had been affected at first by pity for Grisha,
then by the consciousness of her virtuous deed, and in her
eyes, too, stood tears; but she did not decline the cake,
and ate her part of it.
When they espied their mother, they were frightened,
but, as they looked at her face, they knew that they were
doing right, and so they laughed and, with their mouths
full of cake, began to wipe their smiling lips with' their
hands, smearing their beaming faces all over with their
tears and with the jam.
0 Lord The new white dress! TAnya Grisha !"
said the mother, trying to save the dress, but smiling, with
tears in her eyes, a blissful, ecstatic smile.
The new dresses were taken off; blouses were put on
the girls, and old jackets on the boys; the line carriage
was ordered to be hitched up, again with Browny at the
shaft, to the annoyance of the clerk, in order to go out
mushroom hunting and bathing. A din of ecstatic screech-
ing arose in the nursery and did not die down to the very
moment of their departure for the bath-house.
They picked a whole basket full of mushrooms; Lily
even found a boletus scaber. Formerly Miss Hull used
to find them and show them to her; but now she herself
found a large boletus, and in a transport of joy they all
called out, "Lily has found a boletus!"
Then they drove up to the river, put the horses under
the birches, and went to the bath-house. Coachman Te-
r4nti, having tied to a tree the horses, who were switching
off the gnats, lay down in the shade of a birch, trampling
down the grass, and smoked his pipe, while the incessant
merry shrieking of the children was borne to him from
the bath-house.
Though it was troublesome to look after all the children
and stop their friskiness, and though it was hard to re-
member and not get mixed up all those little stockings,
pantalettes, and shoes from all the feet, and to untie and


tie up all the lace- aud unbutton and button all the shoes,
Drrya Aleks.iudruvna, who herself was very fond of bath-
ing, and who considered it u useful for the children, enjoyed
nothing so much as bathing with all the children. To
handle all those chubby little legs, pulling on the stock-
in,; t t take the little bare bodies into her arms and
throw: uim:inthing around them, and to hear their now joy-
ous, now frightened shrieks; to see those breathless faces,
with their open, frightened and merry eyes, those sousing
little cherubim of hers, was to her a great pleasure.
When half the children had their clothes on, a number
of dressed-up peasant women, who had been out picking
goutwort and goat's-beard, came up to the bath-house and
timidly stopped there. Mdrya Filim6novna called one of
them up to give her a sheet and a shirt, which had fallen
into the water, to hang out to dry, and Darya Aleksdn-
drovna began to talk with the women. At first they
laughed into their hands, as they did not understand the
questions, but soon they became more courageous and
more voluble, and they at once bribed Darya Aleksdn-
drovna with the sincere admiration of the children which
they expressed.
I declare, she is a beauty, as white as sugar," one
of them said, admiring TAnya, and shaking her head.
"But she is so thin "
"Yes, she has been ill."
"I say, this one, too, has had a bath," said another, in
reference to the suckling babe.
"No, this babe is only three months old," Darya Alek-
sAndrovna proudly replied.
"I say!"
"Have you any children ?"
"I had four; there are two of them left: a boy and a
girl. I weaned her last meat-eating time."
"How old is she?"
Going on the second year."


Why did you nurse her so long ?"
"It is our custom to nurse three fasts -"
And the conversation became most interesting for Darya
Aleksindrovna: What kind of childbirth she had ? What
diseases he hadhad? Where her husband was? Whether
he frequently came home?
Darya Aleksandrovna did not feel like going away from
the women, the conversation was so interesting to her,
and their interests were so entirely identical. What
pleased Darya Aleksandrovna most was that she saw that
all these women more than anything else admired her
for having so many children, and such nice ones. The
women also amused Dtrya Aleksindrovna and offended
the governess because she was the cause of the laughter,
which was incomprehensible to her. One of the younger
women kept watching the governess, who dressed herself
after the rest, and when she put on the third skirt, the
woman could not keep from remarking, "I say, she has
been twisting and twisting, and can't twist it on !" and
all burst out a-laughing.

SURROUNDED by all the bathed children with their wet
heads, Darya Aleksindrovna, with a kerchief over her
hair, was approaching the house when the coachman said:
" A gentleman is coming there, I think it is the master
of Pokr6vskoe."
Darya Aleksandrovna looked out of the carriage and
rejoiced when she saw Levin's familiar figure, in gray hat
and gray ulster, walking up toward them. She was always
glad to see him, but now she was especially glad because
he saw her in all her glory. No one could understand
her greatness better than Levin.
As he saw her, he found himself face to face with one
of the pictures of his future domestic life, as it presented
itself to him.
"You are like a sitting hen, Darya Aleks6ndrovna."
Oh, how glad I am !" she said, extending her hand.
"You are glad, but did not let me know that you were
here. My brother is staying with me. I had a note
from Stiva that you were in the country."
"From Stfva ?" D6rya Aleksindrovna asked, in surprise.
"Yes. He writes that you have come down here, and
he thinks you will allow me to help you in anything you
may need," said Levin. Saying this, he suddenly became
embarrassed and, interrupting his speech, he continued to
walk in silence beside the carriage, plucking linden shoots
and biting at them. He was embarrassed at the suppo-
sition that Darya Aleksandrovna might be annoyed to
receive the aid of a stranger in matters which pertained


to her husband. Indeed, Darya Aleksandrovna did not
at all like this manner of Stepin Arkidevich of burdening
strangers with his family affairs. And she saw at once
that Levin understood it. It was precisely for this refine-
ment of understanding, for this delicacy, that Darya
Aleksandrovna liked Levin.
Of course, I understood," said Levin, that this means
only that you wanted to see me, and I am very glad of it.
Of course, I imagine that you, as a city housekeeper, find
things wild here, and if you need anything, I am entirely
at your service."
Oh, no !" said Dolly. "At first it was inconvenient,
but now everything is running all right. Thanks to my
old nurse," she said, pointing to MWrya Filim6novna, who
understood that they were talking about her, and who was
smiling a gay and friendly smile at Levin. She knew
him, and knew also that he would be a good husband for
the young lady, and was anxious for her to marry him.
Take a seat here, we will squeeze up a little," she
said to him.
No, I will walk. Children, who will run a race with
me against the horses ?"
The children knew Levin but little and did not re-
member him when they saw him, but they did not show
toward him that strange feeling of bashfulness and dis-
gust which children frequently experience before grown
people who feign, and for which they frequently suffer so
painfully. Feigning may deceive the cleverest and most
penetrating mind; but the dullest child will discover it
and turn away from it in disgust, no matter how artfully
it is concealed. Whatever Levin's faults might have been,
there was not a sign of hypocrisy in him, and so the chil-
dren showed him the same friendliness which they dis-
covered in their mother's face. In response to his
invitation, the two elder children immediately leaped
down to him and ran with him as simply as they would


have run with their nurse, with Miss Hull, or with their
mother. Lily, too, begged to be let down to him, and her
mother gave her in his charge. He placed her on his
shoulder and ran along with her.
"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, Darya Aleksdn-
drovna!" he said, merrily smiling at the mother, "I
won't hurt or drop her."
And, looking at his agile, strong, cautious, and over-
strained motions, the mother quieted down and smiled at
him gaily and approvingly.
Here, in the country, with the children and sympathetic
Darya Aleksandrovna, Levin fell into that childishly merry
mood which frequently came over him, and which Darya
Aleks6ndrovna liked so much in him. As he ran with
the children, he taught them gymnastics, amused Miss
Hull with his miserable English, and told Ddrya Aleks6n-
drovna about his occupations in the country.
After dinner, Darya Aleks6ndrovna, sitting alone with
him on the veranda, began to talk to him about Kitty.
Do you know, Kitty will be here to pass the summer
with me."
Indeed ?" he said, blushing. To change the subject,
he immediately said: "So I shall send you two cows, if
you wish. If you want to keep accounts, pay me five
roubles a month for each cow, though you ought to be
ashamed to mention it."
"No, thank you. Things are running well now."
"Well, then I will take a look at your cows, and if you
permit me, I shall tell people how to feed them. The
whole secret is in the feeding."
And merely in order to change the subject, Levin began
to expound to Dirya Aleksdndrovna the theory of the
dairy business, which was that a cow was only a machine
for the transformation of feed into milk, and so forth.
Though he was talking about this, he was dying to hear
the details about Kitty, and at the same time was afraid


of hearing them. He felt terribly at the thought that his
rest, which had been acquired by so much labour, would
now be destroyed.
Yes, but somebody has to watch it all, and who will ?"
DIrya Aleksindrovna replied, reluctantly.
She had now entrusted the farm to M6rya Filim6-
novna's care, and did not wish to disturb anything in this
arrangement; besides, she had no faith in Levin's knowl-
edge of farming. His disquisition about a cow being only
a machine for the production of milk was suspicious to
her. It seemed to her that reflections of this kind could
only be in the way of farming. She thought that it was
all much simpler, that it was only necessary, as Marya
Filim6novna had explained to her, to give Piebald and
White-Flank more feed and water, and for the cook not
to carry the swill to the laundress's cow. That was clear.
But the discussion about grain and grass feeding was
doubtful and indistinct. And, above all, she wanted to
talk about Kitty.

KITTY writes to me that there is nothing she wishes
so much as solitude and calm," said Dolly, after a silence
which had ensued.
"How is her health, better ?" Levin asked, in agitation.
Thank God, she has entirely recovered. I had never
any faith in her having any lung trouble."
Oh, I am very glad!" said Levin, and something
touching and helpless, Dolly thought, appeared in his
face while he said this and later silently looked at her.
Listen, Konstantin Dmitrievich," said Darya AleksAn-
drovna, smiling her kindly and somewhat sarcastic smile,
" why are you angry at Kitty ?"
"I ? I am not," said Levin.
Yes, you are. Why did you not call on us or on them
when you were in Moscow?"
D6rya Aleksandrovna," he said, blushing to the roots
of his hair, I am actually surprised that you with your
goodness do not feel it. How can you fail to pity me
since you know-"
"What do I know ?"
"You know that I proposed and that I was refused,"
muttered Levin, and all the tenderness which a moment
ago he had felt for Kitty was changed in his soul for a
feeling of malice on account of the insult.
What makes you think that I knew it ?"
Because everybody knows it."
"Now this time you are mistaken; I did not know it,
though I surmised it."


"Ah Then you know now."
"All I knew was that there was something which tor-
mented her dreadfully, and that she asked me never to
speak of it. And if she has not told me, she has not told
anybody. Tell me, what was there between you ?"
"I have told you what there was."
"When ?"
When I called on you the last time."
"Do you know what I will tell you," said Dirya Alek-
sandrovna, "I am dreadfully, dreadfully sorry for her. You
are suffering only from injured pride -"
Perhaps," said Levin, but "
She interrupted him.
But I am dreadfully sorry for her, poor girl. Now I
understand everything."
"IDarya Aleksdndrovna, you must excuse me," he said,
getting up. "Good-bye, Drrya Aleksindrovna, good-
No, wait she said, seizing his sleeve. Wait, sit
Please, please, let us not talk of this he said, sitting
down, and feeling at the same time that the hope which he
had thought buried rose and stirred in his heart.
If I did not like you," said Darya Aleksindrovna, with
the tears appearing in her eyes, if I did not know you as
I do -"
The feeling which Levin had thought dead came more
and more to life, rose up, and took possession of his heart.
Yes, I now understand everything," continued DIrya
Aleksandrovna. You cannot understand it; to you men,
who are free and who make the choice, it is always clear
whom you love. But a girl in the attitude of expectancy,
with her feminine, maidenly bashfulness, a girl who sees
you men at a distance and believes everything which is
said to her, may be in such a predicament that she
does not know what to say."


"Yes, if the heart does not tell "
"The heart does tell, but just think: you men have
intentions on a girl; you call on her, become acquainted,
watch, wait your chance, find out whether she is what you
love in her, and when you are convinced that you love,
you propose "
"Well, that is not quite right."
It makes no difference, you propose when your love
has matured, or when the scale has tipped with one of two
choices. But a girl is not asked. You want her to choose
herself, but she cannot choose, and only answers Yes,' or
' No.' "
"Yes, the choice between me and Vr6nski," thought
Levin, and the reviving corpse died again and painfully
weighed on his heart.
Darya Aleks6ndrovna," he said, "thus a dress or a
purchase is chosen, but not love. The choice is made,
- so much the better There can be no repetition."
Oh, pride, and nothing but pride!" said D6rya Alek-
sandrovna, as though despising him for the baseness of
that sentiment in comparison with that other sentiment
which only women know. "Just at the time that you
were proposing to Kitty, she was in a condition when she
could not answer. She was wavering between you and
Vr6nski. She saw him every day, while she had not
seen you for a long time. Now, if she had been older, -
for me, for example, there could have been no wavering.
I always hated him, and so it ended."
Levin recalled Kitty's reply. She had said No, it
cannot be!"
Darya Aleksandrovna," he said dryly, I esteem the
confidence you place in me; I think you are mistaken.
Whether right or wrong, this pride, which you despise so
much, makes for me every thought of Katerina Aleks6n-
drovna impossible, you understand, quite impossible."
I will say only this much: you understand that I am


speaking of my sister whom I love as I do my own chil-
dren. I do not say that she loves you; I only wanted
to say that her refusal at that moment does not prove
"I do not know!" said Levin, leaping up. "If you
knew how you pain me! It is as though a child of yours
had died, and people should say to you,' He might have
been such and such, and could have lived, and you might
have had your joy with him.' But he is dead, dead,
dead "
How funny you are," said Dirya Aleksandrovna, look-
ing with a sad smile at Levin's agitation. Yes, now I
understand more and more," she continued, pensively.
"So you will not come to see us when Kitty is here ?"
"'No, I will not. Of course I will not avoid her, but,
wherever possible, I will try to save her the unpleasant-
ness of my presence."
You are very, very funny," repeated Darya Aleksan-
drovna, looking tenderly into his face. "All right, let it
be as though we had not talked of it. What did you
come for, Tnya ? said Darya Aleksdndrovna, in French,
to her daughter who had just entered.
Where is my spade, mamma ?"
I am talking to you in French, and you must answer
me in French."
The girl wanted to do so, but could not think of the
French for "spade ; her mother helped her out, and then
told her in the same language where to find it. And this
seemed disagreeable to Levin.
Everything in Darya Aleksandrovna's house and in her
children now appeared to him less nice than before.
Why does she talk in French to her children ?" he
thought. How unnatural and false it all is And the
children feel it. They are taught French and insincerity,"
he thought, not knowing that Dirya Aleksandrovna had
thought so herself more than twenty times, and yet, at the


risk of insincerity, had found it necessary to instruct the
children in that manner.
Why are you in such a hurry ? Sit awhile !"
Levin remained until tea, but his mirth was all gone,
and he felt ill at ease.

After tea he went to the antechamber to order up his
horses, and when he returned, he found Dirya Aleks6n-
drovna excited, with a disturbed countenance and with
tears in her eyes. While Levin was out, there took place
an event which suddenly destroyed all of Darya Aleksan-
drovna's happiness and pride in her children. Grisha and
Tinya had a fight on account of a ball. Hearing cries in
the nursery, D6rya Aleksndrovna ran out and found
them in a terrible plight. Tnya was holding Grisha's
hair, and he, with a face disfigured with rage, struck her with
his fist wherever he could. Her heart sank when she saw
this, as though darkness had veiled her life: she under-
stood that those children of hers, of whom she had been
so proud, were not only most ordinary, but even naughty,
badly brought up, bad children, with coarse, animal
She could not speak or think of anything else, and
could not help telling Levin her misfortune.
Levin saw that she was unhappy, and tried to console
her, saying that it proved nothing bad, and that all chil-
dren were in the habit of fighting; but saying this, he
thought in his heart: No, I will not act the clown and
talk French with my children; and I shall not have such
children; children must not be spoiled and maimed, and
they will be fine. Yes, I shall have different children."
He said good-bye and went away, and she did not try
to keep him.

IN the middle of July the elder of the village belonging
to Levin's sister, about twenty versts from Pokr6vskoe,
came to see Levin with a report about the state of affairs
and the mowing. The chief income from his sister's
estate was derived from the intervales. In former years
the peasants used to buy the standing hay at twenty
roubles the desyatina. When Levin took the estate into
his hands, he examined the mowings and found that they
were worth more, and so he set the price at twenty-five
roubles the desyatina. The peasants would not give him
this price and, as Levin suspected, kept off other purchas-
ers. Then Levin went there himself and made arrange-
ments about mowing the fields partly by hired labour and
partly on shares. The peasants opposed this innovation
all they could, but matters went well, and during the very
first year almost double the sum was realized. On the
third and past year the peasants had kept up their oppo-
sition, but the harvest went on in the same order. Dur-
ing the present year the peasants had taken all the
mowings at one-third shares, and the elder came to inform
him that the grass had all been mown, and that he, fear-
ing rain, had invited the clerk to be present at the divi-
sion of eleven of the manor's ricks. From the indefinite
answers to his question how much hay there was in the
main meadow, from the whole tone of the peasant, Levin
understood that there was something wrong in this divi-
sion of the hay, and he decided to drive down in order to
investigate matters on the spot.


He arrived in the village at dinner-time. Leaving the
horse with an old peasant, a friend of his and the husband
of his brother's nurse, Levin went to see him in his apiary,
as he wanted to find out from him the details of the hay
harvest. The garrulous, respectable old man, Parm4nych
by name, was glad to see Levin; he showed him his
farm and told him all the details about his bees and
about the swarming of the present year, but he replied
indefinitely and reluctantly to Levin's questions about
the haying. This still more confirmed Levin in his sus-
picions. He went to the meadows to examine the ricks.
There could not possibly be fifty wagon-loads in each rick,
and, in order to catch the peasants, Levin sent for the
wagons that had been hauling the hay and ordered them
to take a whole rick to the barn. There were only thirty-
two wagons in that lot. In spite of the elder's assurances
about the lightness of the hay and its having settled in
the ricks, and in spite of his oath that everything had been
done in an honest way, Levin insisted that the hay had
been divided up without his order, and that he, therefore,
did not accept this hay as being fifty wagon-loads to each
rick. After long disputes the matter was adjusted in such
a way that the peasants took the eleven ricks for them-
selves, counting them at fifty loads, and the manorial
share was made out anew. These parleys and the divi-
sion of the stacks lasted until supper. When the last of
the hay was divided up, Levin entrusted the supervision
of the rest to the clerk and sat down on a stack which was
marked with a willow stick, to look at the meadow, which
was astir with people.
Before him, in the bend of the river, beyond a little
bog, moved a variegated line of peasant women, merrily
chattering with their sonorous voices, and from the
tedded hay rapidly rose gray, winding rows on the bright
green aftermath. The women were followed by peasants
with pitchforks, and the rows were changed to broad, tall,


puffed-up stacks. On the left, over the cleared field,
rumbled the carts, and one after another, pitched off in
huge bunches, disappeared the stacks, and in their places
rose heavy wagon-loads of fragrant hay, pressing against
the backs of the horses.
"Haul it off in good weather It will make fine hay!"
said the old man, sitting down near Levin. "It is tea,
and not hay! They are picking it up, as though you
threw kernels out for the ducks!" he added, pointing to
the growing loads. "They have hauled off a good half
since dinner."
"Is it the last?" he shouted to a young lad who,
standing on the front of the cart box, was waving the
ends of his hempen lines as he drove past.
"The last, sir!" cried the lad. He held back his
horse, smilingly looked back at the gay, also smiling,
ruddy woman who was sitting in the cart box, and drove
"Who is this ? Your son ?" asked Levin.
"My youngest !" the old man said, with a kindly smile.
"What a fine fellow !"
"Yes, a nice lad."
"Is he married ?"
"Yes, he married a Filippovki woman three years ago."
Well, any children ?"
"Indeed not! For a whole year he did not know a
thing, and he is so bashful," replied the old man. What
hay! Real tea!" he repeated, wishing to change the
Levin looked fixedly at Vanka Parmdnov and his wife.
They were pitching a stack not far from him. VYnka
Parmdnov was standing in the wagon, receiving, spread-
ing, and tramping down huge masses of hay, which his
pretty wife handed to him, at first in armfuls and then
on the pitchfork. The young woman worked lightly,
merrily, and nimbly. The heavy, settled hay did not at


once go on the fork. At first she loosened it, then she
stuck in the fork and with a flexible and rapid motion
leaned against it with all the weight of her body, and,
bending her back, which was girded with a red belt,
straightened herself up and, displaying her full breast
under her white chest-kerchief, with an agile movement
caught the fork and threw the hay high up on the
wagon. V6nka rapidly caught the bundle with his open
arms, evidently wishing to save her every unnecessary
minute of work, and spread the hay over the wagon.
After having pitched the last hay with the rake, the
woman shook off the chaff which had fallen behind her
neck and, adjusting the red kerchief over her white,
bleached forehead, she crawled under the cart to tie it up.
Vinka taught her how to catch on the reach, and burst
out a-laughing at something she said. In the expressions
of their faces could be seen vigorous, youthful, lately
awakened love.


THE wagon was secured with ropes. Vanka jumped
down and led the good, well-fed horse by the bridle.
The woman threw the rake on the wagon, and at a brisk
gait, waving her arms, went to the women who were
assembled for the common song. Vanka reached the
road, where he joined a long procession of carts. The
women, with rakes over their shoulders, gleaming with
their bright colours and chattering with their merry,
melodious voices, were walking back of the wagons. A
coarse, wild woman's voice started a song and sang it
down to the refrain, when some fifty deep and soft,
healthy voices unanimously repeated the song from the
The women, singing, came near to Levin, and he felt
as though a thunder-cloud of mirth were moving up to
him. The cloud came near and took him in, and the
stack on which he was lying, and the other stacks and
the wagons, and the whole meadow with the distant
field, everything quaked and fell in with the measure
of this wild, hilarious song, with its shouting and whis-
tling and clapping. Levin became envious of this lusty
mirth and felt like taking part in the expression of this
joy of life. But he could do nothing and had to lie, and
look, and listen. When the people with their song dis-
appeared from view and were out of hearing, an oppress-
ive feeling of pining on account of his loneliness, his
bodily indolence, and his hostility to this world took
possession of him.


A few of those same peasants, who more than the rest
had been quarrelling with him on account of the hay,
those whom he had offended, or those who had intended
to offend him,- these same peasants merrily bowed to
him, and evidently had no resentment, and could have
none, toward him, and no regret, or even recollection, of
having intended to cheat him. All this was drowned in
the sea of the merry mass work. God had given the day,
and God had given the strength. And the day and the
strength were devoted to the work, and in it was its own
reward. And for whom was the work? What would be
the fruits of the work? Those were secondary and un-
important considerations.
Levin had frequently admired this life and had fre-
quently envied these people who lived this life, but on
that day, especially under the influence of what he had
seen in Vinka Parminov's relations with his young wife,
the thought struck him clearly for the first time that it
depended on him to change that oppressive, indolent,
artificial, personal life, which he had been living, for this
pure, common, charming life of work.
The old man who had been sitting with him had long
ago gone home; the peasants had all scattered. Those
who were from near-by villages had gone home, and those
who were from a distance had assembled in the meadow
for supper and for the night. Unnoticed by the people,
Levin remained lying on the stack, and looking, listening,
and thinking. The people who stayed in the meadow for
the night hardly slept any during the whole short sum-
mer night. At first he heard a general merry conversa-
tion and laughter at their supper, and later again songs
and laughter.
The whole long work-day had left no other trace in
them than mirth. Before daybreak all grew quiet. One
could hear only the nocturnal sounds of the unsilenced
frogs in the swamp and of the horses snorting in the


meadow in the mist which rose before morning. Coming
to, Levin rose and looked at the stars, and he saw that
the night had passed.
Well, what, then, shall I do? How shall I do it ?"
he said to himself, trying to give expression to what he
had thought and felt through that short night. Every-
thing he had thought and felt could be divided into three
separate mental processes. One was the renunciation of
his old life, of his absolutely useless education. This re-
nunciation afforded him pleasure and was easy and simple
for him. Other thoughts and representations had reference
to the life which he wished to live now. He clearly felt
the simplicity, purity, and legality of this life, and was con-
vinced that he would find in it that satisfaction, peace, and
dignity, the lack of which he felt so painfully. But a
third series of thoughts gyrated about the question of how
to make this change from the old to the new life. And here
nothing presented itself to him clearly. To have a wife.
To have work and the necessity of work. To leave Po-
kr6vskoe? Buy land? Join the Commune? Marry a
peasant woman ? How can I do it ?" he again asked him-
self, and found no answer. "Well, I have not slept the
whole night, and so cannot give myself any clear answer,"
he said to himself. I will settle that later. One thing
is certain: this night has decided my fate. All my
former dreams of a domestic life are nonsense, not the
thing," he said to himself. All this is much simpler and
"How beautiful!" he thought, looking at what re-
sembled a mother-of-pearl shell of white fleecy clouds,
which had stopped overhead in the middle of the sky.
"How charming everything is in this charming night!
And when was this shell formed? It is only a moment
ago that I looked at the sky, and there was nothing on
it, only two white stripes. Yes, even thus my views
of life have imperceptibly changed."


He left the mieadrw and walked o:n the highway toward
the village. A breeze rose, and it grew gray and gloomy.
It was that murky moment which generally precedes the
daybreak, the complete victory of light over darkness.
Shrinking from the cold, Levin walked rapidly, gazing at
the ground. "What is this? Some one is driving,"
he thought, raising his head, as he heard the tinkling of
little bells. About forty paces from him a carriage with
its luggage, drawn by four horses, was driving toward
him, along the grassy highway on which he was walking.
The shaft horses pressed against the shaft to avoid the ruts,
but the agile coachman, who was sitting sidewise on his
box, kept the shaft along the rut, so that the wheels ran
on the smooth road.
This was all Levin noticed. Without thinking who it
might be, he absently glanced at the carriage.
An old woman was sleeping in the corner of the vehicle,
while at the window, apparently just awakened, sat a
young girl, holding with both her hands the ribbons of her
white cap. Bright and pensive, all filled with a refined,
complicated internal life, which was foreign to Levin, she
looked past him at the morning glow in the east.
Just at that moment, as the vision was disappearing,
her truthful eyes looked at him. She recognized him, and
surprised joy brightened up her face.
He could not have made a mistake. There were no
other eyes like those in the world. There was only one
being in the world who was capable of focusing for him the
whole light and significance of life. It was she. It was
Kitty. He understood that she was travelling from the
railroad station to Ergush6vo. And everything which
had been agitating Levin in that sleepless night, all the
resolves which had been made by him, everything van-
ished at once. He thought in disgust of his intention of
marrying a peasant woman. Only there, in that rapidly
receding carriage, which had gone over on the other side of


the road, only there was there a possible solution of the
riddle of his life, which of late had weighed so painfully
on him.
She did not look out again. The sound of the springs
was no longer heard, and the bells were barely audible.
The barking of the dogs proved that the carriage had
passed the village, and around him were left the empty
fields, the village in front, and he himself, lonely and a
stranger to everything, walking alone on the neglected
He looked at the sky, hoping there to find the shell,
which he had admired, and which personified to him the
march of his thoughts and feelings during the past night.
Nothing resembling the shell was now to be seen in the
sky. There, in the unattainable height, a mysterious
change had already taken place. There was not even a
trace of the shell; there was only an even carpet of fleecy
clouds growing smaller and smaller, and covering the
whole half of the heavens. The sky looked blue and
bright, and it replied to his entreating look with the same
tenderness, but also with the same inaccessibility.
No," he said to himself, however good this simple life
of work may be, I cannot return to it. I love her."


NOBODY but those who were nearest to Aleksyey
Aleksandrovich knew that this seemingly cold and cal-
culating man had one weakness which ran counter to the
general composition of his character. Aleksyey Aleksan-
drovich could not with indifference hear or see the tears of
a child or woman.
The sight of tears undid him, and he at once lost the
ability to reflect. The manager of his office and his secre-
tary knew this, and they took care to inform the lady
petitioners not to weep, if they did not wish to spoil their
cases. He will get angry, and will not listen to you,"
they said. And indeed, in such cases the spiritual con-
fusion produced in Aleksy6y Aleksandrovich by tears
found its expression in hasty anger. I cannot do any-
thing for you. Please go away !" he generally cried under
such circumstances.
When, returning from the races, Anna had informed
him of her relations with Vr6nski and soon after had
covered her face with her hands and burst out weeping,
Aleksyey Aleksandrovich, in spite of the resentment
which that had evoked in him, at the same time felt the
access of that spiritual confusion which tears always pro-
duced in him. Knowing this and also that the expression
of its feelings at that moment would be incompatible with
his situation, he tried to repress in himself every manifes-
tation of life, and so did not stir or look at her. It was
this that had caused that strange expression of deadness,
which so startled Anna.


When they reached the house, he saw her out of the
carriage and, making an effort over himself, bade her
good-bye with customary politeness and pronounced those
words which did not bind him to anything: he said that
he would inform her of his decision on the morrow.
His wife's words, which confirmed his worst suspicions,
produced a cruel pain in his heart. This pain was still
more increased by that strange sensation of physical com-
passion for her, which her tears produced in him. But,
when he was left all alone in his carriage, he to his sur-
prise and joy experienced a complete liberation from this
compassion and from the doubts and pangs of jealousy,
which had been tormenting him of late.
He experienced the sensation of a man who has a tooth
pulled that has been aching for a long time. After a
terrible pain and a sensation of something enormous,
something larger than the head itself being pulled out of
his jaw, the patient, still incredulous of his happiness,
feels that that which so long has poisoned his life and
has riveted his whole attention no longer exists, and that
he can again live, think, and interest himself in some-
thing besides his tooth. It was such a feeling that Alek-
sydy Aleksindrovich experienced. The pain had been a
strange and terrible one, but now it was past; he felt
that he could again live, and think of something other
than his wife.
Without honour, without heart, without religion, a
corrupt woman I have known it and have seen it all
the time, though I have tried, pitying her, to deceive my-
self," he said to himself. And, indeed, it seemed to him
that he had seen it all the time ; he recalled the details
of his past life, which before that had not appeared bad
to him, but now these details showed clearly that she
had always been corrupt. I made a mistake in uniting
my life with hers; but in my mistake there is nothing
bad, and so I cannot be unhappy. It is not I who am


guilty," he said to himself, "but she. But that is not
any concern of mine. She does not exist for me -"
Everything which would befall her or her son, toward
whom his feelings had changed as much as toward her,
no longer interested him. What did interest him was
the question of how in the best, most decent, and conve-
nient, hence most just, way to shake off that mud, with
which she had bedraggled him in her fall, and to continue
marching on his path of an active, honest, and useful
"I cannot be unhappy because a contemptible woman
has committed a crime; I must merely find the best
issue out of this grave situation, in which she has placed
me. And I will find it," he said to himself, frowning more
and more. "I am not the first, and not the last." And,
leaving aside historical examples, beginning with Mene-
laus,-his memory had just been refreshed by "Fair
Helen," a whole series of contemporary cases of women's
infidelities to their husbands in high life arose in Alek-
syey AleksAndrovich's imagination. Daryilov, Polti-
vski, Prince Karibanov, Count Paskddin, Dram Yes,
and Dram, too such an honest, fine man Seminov,
Chigin, Sig6nin," Aleksy6y AleksAndrovich kept recalling.
" It is true, a certain senseless ridicule is attached to these
men, but I have never seen anything but misfortune in
this, and I have always sympathized with them," he said
to himself, though it was not true, as he had never
sympathized with misfortunes of this kind, but had always
valued himself more highly, the more frequent were the
cases of women deceiving their husbands. "It is a mis-
fortune that may befall anybody. And this misfortune
has befallen me. The only question is how best to en-
dure this situation." And he began to consider the details
of the actions of the men who had been in the same situa-
tion with him.
Daryalov fought a duel -"


Duelling had had a particular attraction for Aleksy6y
Aleksindrovich in his youth, for the very reason that he
was a physically weak man, and he knew it. He could
not think without terror of a pistol directed at him, and
had never in all his life handled a weapon. This terror
had in his youth made him frequently think of duels,
and imagine himself in situations in which he would have
to subject his life to dangers. When he gained success
and a firm position in life, he entirely forgot that feeling;
but the habit of the sentiment prevailed, and the terror
before his timidity even now proved so strong that he for
a long time and from all sides considered and mentally
fondled the question of the duel, although he knew in
advance that he would never fight.
Our society is unquestionably still so savage (not at
all as in England) that many," and among these many
were all those whose opinion he esteemed, will look at
a duel from its good side; but what result will be
attained ? Let us say, I will challenge him," Aleksy6y
Aleksdndrovich continued speaking to himself, and, vividly
representing to himself the night which he should pass
after the challenge, and the pistol directed upon him, he
shuddered, and he knew that he should never do it, let
us say, I will challenge him. Suppose I am taught how,"
he continued to think. I shall be placed in position, I
will press the trigger," he said to himself, closing his
eyes, "and it will turn out that I have killed him," he
said to himself, shaking his head, in order to dispel these
foolish thoughts. "What sense is there in the murder
of a man in order to define one's relation to a criminal
wife and to a son ? I shall still have to decide what is to
be done with her. But, what is more probable still, and
what will happen without fail, I shall be killed or
wounded. I, an innocent man, the victim, am dead
or wounded. More senseless still. More than that: a
challenge on my part will be a dishonest act. Do I not


know in advance that my friends will never permit me to
fight a duel, that they will not allow the life of a
statesman, whom Russia needs, to be subjected to danger ?
What, then, will happen ? It will be this: I, knowing in
advance that it will never come to the point of danger,
have intended only to gain a certain false splendour by
such a challenge. That is dishonest and false and a de-
ception of myself and of others. A duel is unthinkable,
and nobody expects it of me. My aim consists in secur-
ing my reputation, which I need for an unimpeded con-
tinuation of my activity." His official activity, which
even before had had a great significance in his eyes, now
appeared even more significant to him.
Having discussed and considered the duel, Aleksy6y
AleksAudrovich turned to divorce, another issue, chosen
by some of the men whom he could think of. Passing
in review all the known cases of divorce (there were very
many in the highest circles with which he was well ac-
quainted), he did not find one in which the aim of the
divorce was what he had in view. In all these cases
the husband relinquished or sold his unfaithful wife, and
the very party that on account of her guilt had no right
to enter into wedlock assumed fictitious, seemingly legal-
ized relations to her putative husband. But Aleksy6y
Aleksindrovich saw that in his case the attainment of a
legal divorce, that is, of such, in which only the guilty
wife should be set aside, was an impossibility. He saw
that the complex conditions of life, in which he was, did
not admit the possibility of those coarse proofs which the
law demanded in order to convict a woman of criminal
conduct; he saw that a certain refinement of his life did
not even admit the application of these proofs, if they
existed, and that the application of these proofs would
lower him more than her in public opinion.
An attempt at securing a divorce could only lead to a
scandalous lawsuit, which would be a veritable find for


his enemies, for gossip, and for detracting from his high
position in the world. But the main object, the definition
of his status with the least disturbance, was not attained
by means of a divorce. Besides, a divorce, even an at-
tempt at obtaining it, manifestly disrupted his wife's
relations with her husband and united her with her lover.
But in Aleksyey Aleks6ndrovich's soul, in spite of his
now complete, as he thought, contemptuous indifference
toward his wife, there was one feeling left in respect to
her, a disinclination to allow her unimpeded union
with Vr6nski, and her profiting from her crime. This one
thought so irritated Aleksyey AleksAndrovich that at the
mere suggestion of it he grunted from internal pain, raised
himself, and changed his position in the carriage, and for
a long time afterward, frowning, wrapped his chilly, bony
legs in a fluffy plaid.
Outside of a formal divorce, he might act as Karibanov,
Paskddin, and that good Dram had done, that is, separate
from his wife, he continued to think, after quieting down;
but this measure, too, presented the same inconveniences
of disgrace as the divorce, and, above all, like the formal
divorce, it threw her into Vr6nski's arms. "No, that is
impossible, impossible!" he said, loudly, again turning
over his plaid. I cannot be unhappy, but it is necessary
that she and he should not be happy."
The feeling of jealousy which had tormented him dur-
ing the period of uncertainty had disappeared the moment
when, by his wife's words, his tooth with the pain was
extracted. But this feeling gave way to another, a de-
sire that she should not triumph and should even get
retribution for her crime. He did not acknowledge this
feeling, but in the depth of his heart he wanted her to
suffer for violating his calm and honour. And again passing
in review the conditions of the duel, the divorce, and the
separation, and again rejecting them, he convinced him-
self that there was but one issue, to keep her, conceal-


ing what had happened from the world, and employing
all proper measures in order to put a stop to the liaison,
and, above all, -a thing which he did not acknowledge
to himself, in order to punish her.
"I must announce my decision to her, which is that,
after considering the grave situation in which she has
placed her family, all other issues would be worse for
both parties than a nominal in statu quo, and that I am
prepared to observe it, but with the stern proviso that she,
on her part, will do my will, that is, will put a stop to her
relations with her lover."
In confirmation of this decision, when finally accepted,
an important reflection occurred to Aleksydy Aleks6ndro-
vich. Only with such a solution do I act in conformity
with religion," he said to himself. Only with such a
solution do I not turn away my wicked wife, but give
her a chance to mend, and even -however hard that
will be for me- devote part of my powers to mending
and saving her."
Although Aleksydy Aleks6ndrovich knew that he could
have no moral influence on his wife, and that nothing
would come from this attempt at correction, but lies;
although, while passing through those oppressive mo-
ments, he had not once thought of seeking a guide in
religion, -now that his solution coincided with what he
thought to be the demands of religion, this religious sanc-
tion of his decision afforded him full satisfaction and par-
tial peace. It gave him pleasure to think that even in
such an important affair of life no one would be able to
say that he did not act in conformity with the tenets
of that religion, the banner of which he had always car-
ried high amidst the general chillness and apathy. In
considering the further details, Aleksyey Aleksandrovich
could not see why his relations with his wife could not
remain almost the same as ever. Of course, he would
never be able to return to her his former respect; but


there was no reason, and there could be none, why he
should disturb his life and suffer in consequence of her
being a bad and unfaithful wife.
Yes, time, all-mending time, will pass, and our rela-
tions will be the same as of old," he said to himself, that
is, they will be rehabilitated to such an extent that I will
not feel the disturbance in the course of my life. She
must be unhappy, but I am not guilty, and so cannot be


ON nearing St. Petersburg, Aleksyey Aleksindrovich
not only had fully decided on this solution, but had
even mentally composed the letter which he would write
to his wife. As he entered the porter's lodge, he glanced
at the letters and documents which had been brought
from the ministry, and ordered them to be taken to his
Put them off, and receive nobody," he said in response
to the porter's question, with some degree of pleasure,
which served as a symptom of his happy frame of mind,
and with an emphasis on the word "nobody."
In the cabinet, he walked twice up and down, and then
stopped in front of a large writing-table, on which the
valet, who had entered before him, had lighted six can-
dles. He cracked his fingers and sat down, fingering the
writing apparatus. Placing his elbows on the table, he
inclined his head toward one side, mused for awhile, and
began to write, without stopping even for a second. He
wrote without addressing her, in French, using the pro-
noun you," which does not have that character of chilli-
ness that it has in Russian.

"At our last conversation, I expressed my intention of
announcing to you my decision respecting the subject
of our conversation. Having carefully considered every-
thing, I write to you for the purpose of carrying out my
promise. My decision is as follows: Whatever your acts
may be, I do not consider myself empowered to break those


ties by which we are united from above. The family can-
not be disrupted by the caprice, the arbitrary will, or even
the crime of one of the married pair, and our life must
continue as before. That is necessary for my sake, for
yours, and for the sake of our son. I am fully convinced
that you have repented and regret the act which is the
cause of the present letter, and that you will cooperate
with me in the attempt to eradicate the cause of our dis-
cord, and to forget the past. Contrariwise you can your-
self imagine what awaits you and your son. I hope to
discuss this matter more fully at a personal meeting. As
the summer season is coming to an end, I would ask you
to move to St. Petersburg as soon as possible, not later
than Tuesday. All necessary arrangements for your jour-
ney will be made. I beg you to observe that I ascribe a
special significance to the execution of my request.

"P. S. Enclosed you will find some money, which
you may need for your expenses."

He read the letter and was satisfied with it, especially
because he had thought of the money enclosure; there
was not a cruel word, no rebuke, but also no condescen-
sion. The main thing was the golden bridge for her
return. Having folded the letter and smoothed it with a
large massive ivory knife and placed it with the money
in an envelope, he rang the bell with an expression of
pleasure, which was always evoked in him when han-
dling his convenient writing apparatus.
"Give it to the courier to take to-morrow to Anna
ArkAdevna at the summer residence," he said, rising.
"Yes, your Excellency Do you wish the tea brought
to your cabinet ?"
Aleksyey AleksAndrovich ordered the tea in the cabinet
and, playing with the massive knife, went to the arm-


chair, near which stood prepared a lamp and lay a half-
read book on the Eugubian inscriptions. Above the chair
hung an oval portrait of Anna, in a gilt frame, beautifully
painted by a famous artist. Aleksyey Aleksandrovich
glanced at it. Her impenetrable eyes looked sarcastically
and boldly at him, as on that last night of their explana-
tion. Unbearably bold and provoking appeared to him
the sight of the exquisitely painted black lace on her head,
of the black hair, and the beautiful white hand with ring-
bedecked ring-finger. Looking for about a minute at the
portrait, he shuddered so that his lips trembled and pro-
duced the sound brr," and he turned his face away.
He hastily sat down in the chair and opened the book.
He tried to read, but was quite unable to revive his
former lively interest in the Eugubian inscriptions. He
was looking into the book, but thinking of something else.
He was thinking, not of his wife, but of a complication
which had of late arisen in his administrative activity,
and which at that time formed the chief interest of his
official life. He felt that he now entered more deeply
than ever into that complication, and that his head had
given birth, he could say so without self-flattery, to
a capital idea which would disentangle the whole case,
raise him in his official career, defeat his enemies, and,
therefore, be of the greatest use to his country.
The moment the servant had put down the tea and left
the room, Aleksydy Aleksandrovich got up and went to
the writing-table. He moved the portfolio with the
current affairs to the middle of the table, with a faint
smile of self-satisfaction took a pencil out of the stand,
and buried himself in the reading of the tangled case
which had reference to the present complication, and for
which he had called.
The complication was as follows: The peculiarity of
Aleksy4y Aleksandrovich as a statesman, that character-
istic feature, peculiarly his own, which every promising


official has, and which, with his stubborn reserve, honesty,
and self-confidence, had made his career, consisted in con-
tempt for red tape, in the abbreviation of correspondences,
in the directest possible relation to the live question, and
in economy.
It then happened that in the famous commission of
the 2d of June was brought up the case of the irrigation
of the fields of the Government of Zaraysk, which was
under the jurisdiction of Aleksyey Aleksandrovich's min-
istry, and which presented a glaring example of unprofitable
expenditures and of red tape. Aleksyby Aleksandrovich
knew that it was true. The case of the irrigation of the
fields of the Government of Zar6ysk had been begun by
the predecessor of Aleksy4y Aleksandrovich's predecessor.
Indeed, a great deal of money had been spent on this
business, in a most unproductive manner, and nothing
could manifestly come of it. When Aleksy6y Aleksan-
drovich took his office, he saw that at once and wanted to
lay his hands on this case; but at first, while he did not
feel himself yet secure, he knew that it involved too many
interests and was unwise; later, when he busied himself
with other matters, he entirely forgot this case. Like all
other cases, it went on by itself, by the power of inertia.
(Many people derived a living from this case, especially
a very moral and musical family: all the daughters
played on some instruments. Aleksy4y Aleksandrovich
knew that family, and had given one of the elder
daughters away.)
The raising of this case by a hostile ministry was, in
Aleksyey Aleksandrovich's opinion, a piece of dishonesty,
because in every ministry there were much worse cases,
which no one thought of raising, from a certain sense of
official decency. But now that they had cast that gaunt-
let to him, he boldly took it up, and demanded the ap-
pointment of a special commission for the study and
verification of the labours of the commission which dealt


with the irrigatiion ,fi the fields ,of tlhe G.:'verumeut of
Zar6ysk; and now he showed no mercy to those gentle-
men. He demanded also the appointment of a special
commission to investigate the condition of the aliens.
The case of the condition of the aliens had incidentally
been raised in the committee of the 2d of June, and had
energetically been defended by Aleksy6y Aleks6ndrovich,
as brooking no delay, on account of the pitiful state of
the aliens. In the committee this case had called forth
rebuttals from several ministries. The ministry which
was hostile to Aleksy6y Aleksandrovich proved that the
aliens were in a flourishing condition, and if anything was
wrong, it was due to the failure of Aleksydy Aleksin-
drovich's ministry to carry out the measures which were
prescribed by law.
Now Aleksy6y Aleksandrovich intended to demand:
first, that a new commission be chosen for the purpose of
investigating on the spot the condition of the aliens;
secondly, that, if it be found that the condition of the
aliens was actually such as appeared from the official data
in the hands of the committee, another new, learned com-
mission be appointed to investigate the causes of this
hopeless condition of the aliens from the following stand-
points, (a) the political, (b) the administrative, (c) the
economical, (d) the ethnographic, (e) the material, and (f)
the religious; thirdly, that the hostile ministry be re-
quested to furnish information in regard to the measures
which in the last decennium had been taken by that min-
istry in order to ward off those disadvantageous condi-
tions under which the aliens now lived; and fourthly,
that the ministry be requested to furnish information
why, as was evident from the data in the committee's
possession, under numbers 17,015 and 18,308, dated
respectively December 5, 1863, and June 7, 1864, it had
acted in direct opposition to the fundamental and organic
law of Vol. -, Art. 18, and note to Art. 36.


A flush of animation covered Aleksy6y AleksAndrovich's
face as he rapidly sketched down a conspectus of these
thoughts. After filling a whole sheet of paper, he got up,
rang the bell, and sent a note to the manager of the office,
asking him to furnish him certain information. He walked
up and down the room and, again glancing at the portrait,
frowned and smiled contemptuously. Having read for a
while the book on the Eugubian inscriptions and renewed
the interest in them, he retired at eleven o'clock, and when,
lying in his bed, he recalled the affair with his wife, it no
longer appeared to him in such a gloomy aspect.

THOUGH Anna had stubbornly and with resentment
contradicted Vr6nski, when he had told her that her
position was impossible, she in the depth of her soul
regarded her position as false and dishonest, and with all
her heart wished to change it. On returning with her
husband from the races, she in a moment of agitation told
him everything, and, in spite of the pain which she ex-
perienced in doing so, she was glad of it. When her
husband had left her, she said to herself that she was
glad that now everything would be clearly defined, and
that, at least, there would be no lie and no deception.
The pain which she had caused herself and her husband, in
saying those words, would now be rewarded, she thought,
since everything would be clearly defined. That evening
she saw Vr6nski, but did not tell him what had taken
place between her and her husband, though, to define her
position, she ought to have told him.
When she awoke the next morning, the first thing that
occurred to her were the words which she had spoken to
her husband, and they seemed so terrible to her that she
was now unable to comprehend how she could have had
the courage to utter those strange, coarse words, and was
unable to see what would be the end of it. But the words
had been said, and Aleksyby Aleksandrovich had left with-
out saying anything.
I saw Vr6nski, and did not tell him. The very moment
he turned to leave, I wanted to keep him back and tell

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