Resurrection by Leo Nikoleyevich Tolstoy (i love reading .TXT) 📖
- Author: Leo Nikoleyevich Tolstoy
- Performer: -
Book online «Resurrection by Leo Nikoleyevich Tolstoy (i love reading .TXT) 📖». Author Leo Nikoleyevich Tolstoy
spent nearly ten years, at different times, abroad with
Nekhludoff’s mother, and had the appearance and manners of a
lady. She had lived with the Nekhludoffs from the time she was a
child, and had known Dmitri Ivanovitch at the time when he was
still little Mitinka.
“Good-morning, Dmitri Ivanovitch.”
“Good-morning, Agraphena Petrovna. What is it you want?”
Nekhludoff asked.
“A letter from the princess; either from the mother or the
daughter. The maid brought it some time ago, and is waiting in my
room,” answered Agraphena Petrovna, handing him the letter with a
significant smile.
“All right! Directly!” said Nekhludoff, taking the letter and
frowning as he noticed Agraphena Petrovna’s smile.
That smile meant that the letter was from the younger Princess
Korchagin, whom Agraphena Petrovna expected him to marry. This
supposition of hers annoyed Nekhludoff.
“Then I’ll tell her to wait?” and Agraphena Petrovna took a crumb
brush which was not in its place, put it away, and sailed out of
the room.
Nekhludoff opened the perfumed note, and began reading it.
The note was written on a sheet of thick grey paper, with rough
edges; the writing looked English. It said:
Having assumed the task of acting as your memory, I take the
liberty of reminding you that on this the 28th day of April you
have to appear at the Law Courts, as juryman, and, in
consequence, can on no account accompany us and Kolosoff to the
picture gallery, as, with your habitual flightiness, you promised
yesterday; _a moins que vous ne soyez dispose a payer la cour
d’assise les 300 roubles d’amende que vous vous refusez pour
votre cheval,_ for not appearing in time. I remembered it last
night after you were gone, so do not forget.
Princess M. Korchagin.
On the other side was a postscript.
_Maman vous fait dire que votre convert vous attendra jusqu’a
la nuit. Venez absolument a quelle heure que cela soit._
M. K.
Nekhludoff made a grimace. This note was a continuation of that
skilful manoeuvring which the Princess Korchagin had already
practised for two months in order to bind him closer and closer
with invisible threads. And yet, beside the usual hesitation of
men past their youth to marry unless they are very much in love,
Nekhludoff had very good reasons why, even if he did make up his
mind to it, he could not propose at once. It was not that ten
years previously he had betrayed and forsaken Maslova; he had
quite forgotten that, and he would not have considered it a
reason for not marrying. No! The reason was that he had a liaison
with a married woman, and, though he considered it broken off,
she did not.
Nekhludoff was rather shy with women, and his very shyness
awakened in this married woman, the unprincipled wife of the
marechal de noblesse of a district where Nekhludoff was present
at an election, the desire of vanquishing him. This woman drew
him into an intimacy which entangled him more and more, while it
daily became more distasteful to him. Having succumbed to the
temptation, Nekhludoff felt guilty, and had not the courage to
break the tie without her consent. And this was the reason he did
not feel at liberty to propose to Korchagin even if he had wished
to do so. Among the letters on the table was one from this
woman’s husband. Seeing his writing and the postmark, Nekhludoff
flushed, and felt his energies awakening, as they always did when
he was facing any kind of danger.
But his excitement passed at once. The marechal do noblesse, of
the district in which his largest estate lay, wrote only to let
Nekhludoff know that there was to be a special meeting towards
the end of May, and that Nekhludoff was to be sure and come to
“donner un coup d’epaule,” at the important debates concerning
the schools and the roads, as a strong opposition by the
reactionary party was expected.
The marechal was a liberal, and was quite engrossed in this
fight, not even noticing the misfortune that had befallen him.
Nekhludoff remembered the dreadful moments he had lived through;
once when he thought that the husband had found him out and was
going to challenge him, and he was making up his mind to fire
into the air; also the terrible scene he had with her when she
ran out into the park, and in her excitement tried to drown
herself in the pond.
“Well, I cannot go now, and can do nothing until I get a reply
from her,” thought Nekhludoff. A week ago he had written her a
decisive letter, in which he acknowledged his guilt, and his
readiness to atone for it; but at the same time he pronounced
their relations to be at an end, for her own good, as he
expressed it. To this letter he had as yet received no answer.
This might prove a good sign, for if she did not agree to break
off their relations, she would have written at once, or even come
herself, as she had done before. Nekhludoff had heard that there
was some officer who was paying her marked attention, and this
tormented him by awakening jealousy, and at the same time
encouraged him with the hope of escape from the deception that
was oppressing him.
The other letter was from his steward. The steward wrote to tell
him that a visit to his estates was necessary in order to enter
into possession, and also to decide about the further management
of his lands; whether it was to continue in the same way as when
his mother was alive, or whether, as he had represented to the
late lamented princess, and now advised the young prince, they
had not better increase their stock and farm all the land now
rented by the peasants themselves. The steward wrote that this
would be a far more profitable way of managing the property; at
the same time, he apologised for not having forwarded the 3,000
roubles income due on the 1st. This money would he sent on by the
next mail. The reason for the delay was that he could not get the
money out of the peasants, who had grown so untrustworthy that he
had to appeal to the authorities. This letter was partly
disagreeable, and partly pleasant. It was pleasant to feel that
he had power over so large a property, and yet disagreeable,
because Nekhludoff had been an enthusiastic admirer of Henry
George and Herbert Spencer. Being himself heir to a large
property, he was especially struck by the position taken up by
Spencer in Social Statics, that justice forbids private
landholding, and with the straightforward resoluteness of his
age, had not merely spoken to prove that land could not be looked
upon as private property, and written essays on that subject at
the university, but had acted up to his convictions, and,
considering it wrong to hold landed property, had given the small
piece of land he had inherited from his father to the peasants.
Inheriting his mother’s large estates, and thus becoming a landed
proprietor, he had to choose one of two things: either to give up
his property, as he had given up his father’s land ten years
before, or silently to confess that all his former ideas were
mistaken and false.
He could not choose the former because he had no means but the
landed estates (he did not care to serve); moreover, he had
formed luxurious habits which he could not easily give up.
Besides, he had no longer the same inducements; his strong
convictions, the resoluteness of youth, and the ambitious desire
to do something unusual were gone. As to the second course, that
of denying those clear and unanswerable proofs of the injustice
of landholding, which he had drawn from Spencer’s Social Statics,
and the brilliant corroboration of which he had at a later period
found in the works of Henry George, such a course was impossible
to him.
CHAPTER IV.
MISSY.
When Nekhludoff had finished his coffee, he went to his study to
look at the summons, and find out what time he was to appear at
the court, before writing his answer to the princess. Passing
through his studio, where a few studies hung on the walls and,
facing the easel, stood an unfinished picture, a feeling of
inability to advance in art, a sense of his incapacity, came over
him. He had often had this feeling, of late, and explained it by
his too finely-developed aesthetic taste; still, the feeling was
a very unpleasant one. Seven years before this he had given up
military service, feeling sure that he had a talent for art, and
had looked down with some disdain at all other activity from the
height of his artistic standpoint. And now it turned out that he
had no right to do so, and therefore everything that reminded him
of all this was unpleasant. He looked at the luxurious fittings
of the studio with a heavy heart, and it was in no cheerful mood
that he entered his study, a large, lofty room fitted up with a
view to comfort, convenience, and elegant appearance. He found
the summons at once in a pigeon hole, labelled “immediate,” of
his large writing table. He had to appear at the court at 11
o’clock.
Nekhludoff sat down to write a note in reply to the princess,
thanking her for the invitation, and promising to try and come to
dinner. Having written one note, he tore it up, as it seemed too
intimate. He wrote another, but it was too cold; he feared it
might give offence, so he tore it up, too. He pressed the button
of an electric bell, and his servant, an elderly, morose-looking
man, with whiskers and shaved chin and lip, wearing a grey cotton
apron, entered at the door.
“Send to fetch an isvostchik, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And tell the person who is waiting that I send thanks for the
invitation, and shall try to come.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It is not very polite, but I can’t write; no matter, I shall see
her today,” thought Nekhludoff, and went to get his overcoat.
When he came out of the house, an isvostchik he knew, with
india-rubber tires to his trap, was at the door waiting for him.
“You had hardly gone away from Prince Korchagin’s yesterday,” he
said, turning half round, “when I drove up, and the Swiss at the
door says, ‘just gone.’” The isvostchik knew that Nekhludoff
visited at the Korchagins, and called there on the chance of
being engaged by him.
“Even the isvostchiks know of my relations with the Korchagins,”
thought Nekhludoff, and again the question whether he should not
marry Princess Korchagin presented itself to him, and he could
not decide it either way, any more than most of the questions
that arose in his mind at this time.
It was in favour of marriage in general, that besides the
comforts of hearth and home, it made a moral life possible, and
chiefly that a family would, so Nekhludoff thought, give an aim
to his now empty life.
Against marriage in general was the fear, common to bachelors
past their first youth, of losing freedom, and an unconscious awe
before this mysterious creature, a woman.
In this particular case, in favour of marrying Missy (her name
was Mary, but, as is usual among a certain set, a nickname had
been given her) was that she came of good family, and differed in
everything, manner of speaking, walking, laughing, from the
common people, not by anything exceptional, but by her “good
breeding”—he could
Comments (0)