Part Five: Chapter 20

by Leo Tolstoy

　　The next day the sick man received the sacrament and extremeunction. During the ceremony Nikolay Levin prayed fervently.His great eyes, fastened on the holy image that was set out on acard table covered with a colored napkin, expressed suchpassionate prayer and hope that it was awful to Levin to see it.Levin knew that this passionate prayer and hope would only makehim feel more bitterly parting from the life he so loved. Levinknew his brother and the workings of his intellect: he knew thathis unbelief came not from life being easier for him withoutfaith, but had grown up because step by step the contemporaryscientific interpretation of natural phenomena crushed out thepossibility of faith; and so he knew that his present return wasnot a legitimate one, brought about by way of the same working ofhis intellect, but simply a temporary, interested return to faithin a desperate hope of recovery. Levin knew too that Kitty hadstrengthened his hope by accounts of the marvelous recoveries shehad heard of. Levin knew all this; and it was agonizinglypainful to him to behold the supplicating, hopeful eyes and theemaciated wrist, lifted with difficulty, making the sign of thecross on the tense brow, and the prominent shoulders and hollow,gasping chest, which one could not feel consistent with the lifethe sick man was praying for. During the sacrament Levin didwhat he, an unbeliever, had done a thousand times. He said,addressing God, "If Thou dost exist, make this man to recover"(of course this same thing has been repeated many times), "andThou wilt save him and me."

　　After extreme unction the sick man became suddenly much better.He did not cough once in the course of an hour, smiled, kissedKitty's hand, thanking her with tears, and said he wascomfortable, free from pain, and that he felt strong and had anappetite. He even raised himself when his soup was brought, andasked for a cutlet as well. Hopelessly ill as he was, obvious asit was at the first glance that he could not recover, Levin andKitty were for that hour both in the same state of excitement,happy, though fearful of being mistaken.

　　"Is he better?"

　　"Yes, much."

　　"It's wonderful."

　　"There's nothing wonderful in it."

　　"Anyway, he's better," they said in a whisper, smiling to oneanother.

　　This self-deception was not of long duration. The sick man fellinto a quiet sleep, but he was waked up half an hour later by hiscough. And all at once every hope vanished in those about himand in himself. The reality of his suffering crushed all hopesin Levin and Kitty and in the sick man himself, leaving no doubt,no memory even of past hopes.

　　Without referring to what he had believed in half an hour before,as though ashamed even to recall it, he asked for iodine toinhale in a bottle covered with perforated paper. Levin gave himthe bottle, and the same look of passionate hope with which hehad taken the sacrament was now fastened on his brother,demanding from him the confirmation of the doctor's words thatinhaling iodine worked wonders.

　　"Is Katya not here?" he gasped, looking round while Levinreluctantly assented to the doctor's words. "No; so I can sayit.... It was for her sake I went through that farce. She's sosweet; but you and I can't deceive ourselves. This is what Ibelieve in," he said, and, squeezing the bottle in his bony hand,he began breathing over it.

　　At eight o'clock in the evening Levin and his wife were drinkingtea in their room when Marya Nikolaevna ran in to thembreathlessly. She was pale, and her lips were quivering. "He isdying!" she whispered. "I'm afraid will die this minute."

　　Both of them ran to him. He was sitting raised up with one elbowon the bed, his long back bent, and his head hanging low.

　　"How do you feel?" Levin asked in a whisper, after a silence.

　　"I feel I'm setting off," Nikolay said with difficulty, but withextreme distinctness, screwing the words out of himself. He didnot raise his head, but simply turned his eyes upwards, withouttheir reaching his brother's face. "Katya, go away!" he added.

　　Levin jumped up, and with a peremptory whisper made her go out.

　　"I'm setting off," he said again.

　　"Why do you think so?" said Levin, so as to say something.

　　"Because I'm setting off," he repeated, as though he had a likingfor the phrase. "It's the end."

　　Marya Nikolaevna went up to him.

　　"You had better lie down; you'd be easier," she said.

　　"I shall lie down soon enough," he pronounced slowly, "when I'mdead," he said sarcastically, wrathfully. "Well, you can lay medown if you like."

　　Levin laid his brother on his back, sat down beside him, andgazed at his face, holding his breath. The dying man lay withclosed eyes, but the muscles twitched from time to time on hisforehead, as with one thinking deeply and intensely. Levininvoluntarily thought with him of what it was that was happeningto him now, but in spite of all his mental efforts to go alongwith him he saw by the expression of that calm, stern face thatfor the dying man all was growing clearer and clearer that wasstill as dark as ever for Levin.

　　"Yes, yes, so," the dying man articulated slowly at intervals."Wait a little." He was silent. "Right!" he pronounced all atonce reassuringly, as though all were solved for him. "O Lord!"he murmured, and sighed deeply.

　　Marya Nikolaevna felt his feet. "They're getting cold," shewhispered.

　　For a long while, a very long while it seemed to Levin, the sickman lay motionless. But he was still alive, and from time totime he sighed. Levin by now was exhausted from mental strain.He felt that, with no mental effort, could he understand what itwas that was right. He could not even think of the problem ofdeath itself, but with no will of his own thoughts kept coming tohim of what he had to do next; closing the dead man's eyes,dressing him, ordering the coffin. And, strange to say, he feltutterly cold, and was not conscious of sorrow nor of loss, lessstill of pity for his brother. If he had any feeling for hisbrother at that moment, it was envy for the knowledge the dyingman had now that he could not have.

　　A long time more he sat over him so, continually expecting theend. But the end did not come. The door opened and Kittyappeared. Levin got up to stop her. But at the moment he wasgetting up, he caught the sound of the dying man stirring.

　　"Don't go away," said Nikolay and held out his hand. Levin gavehim his, and angrily waved to his wife to go away.

　　With the dying man's hand in his hand, he sat for half an hour,an hour, another hour. He did not think of death at all now. Hewondered what Kitty was doing; who lived in the next room;whether the doctor lived in a house of his own. He longed forfood and for sleep. He cautiously drew away his hand and feltthe feet. The feet were cold, but the sick man was stillbreathing. Levin tried again to move away on tiptoe, but thesick man stirred again and said: "Don't go."

　　* * * * * * * *The dawn came; the sick man's condition was unchanged. Levinstealthily withdrew his hand, and without looking at the dyingman, went off to his own room and went to sleep. When he wokeup, instead of news of his brother's death which he expected, helearned that the sick man had returned to his earlier condition.He had begun sitting up again, coughing, had begun eating again,talking again, and again had ceased to talk of death, again hadbegun to express hope of his recovery, and had become moreirritable and more gloomy than ever. No one, neither his brothernor Kitty, could soothe him. He was angry with everyone, andsaid nasty things to everyone, reproached everyone for hissufferings, and insisted that they should get him a celebrateddoctor from Moscow. To all inquiries made him as to how he felt,he made the same answer with an expression of vindictivereproachfulness, "I'm suffering horribly, intolerably!"

　　The sick man was suffering more and more, especially frombedsores, which it was impossible now to remedy, and grew moreand more angry with everyone about him, blaming them foreverything, and especially for not having brought him a doctorfrom Moscow. Kitty tried in every possible way to relieve him,to soothe him; but it was all in vain, and Levin saw that sheherself was exhausted both physically and morally, though shewould not admit it. The sense of death, which had been evoked inall by his taking leave of life on the night when he had sent forhis brother, was broken up. Everyone knew that he mustinevitably die soon, that he was half dead already. Everyonewished for nothing but that he should die as soon as possible,and everyone, concealing this, gave him medicines, tried to findremedies and doctors, and deceived him and themselves and eachother. All this was falsehood, disgusting, irreverent deceit.And owing to the bent of his character, and because he loved thedying man more than anyone else did, Levin was most painfullyconscious of this deceit.

　　Levin, who had long been possessed by the idea of reconciling hisbrothers, at least in face of death, had written to his brother,Sergey Ivanovitch, and having received an answer from him, heread this letter to the sick man. Sergey Ivanovitch wrote thathe could not come himself, and in touching terms he begged hisbrother's forgiveness.

　　The sick man said nothing.

　　"What am I to write to him?" said Levin. "I hope you are notangry with him?"

　　"No, not the least!" Nikolay answered, vexed at the question."Tell him to send me a doctor."

　　Three more days of agony followed; the sick man was still in thesame condition. The sense of longing for his death was felt byeveryone now at the mere sight of him, by the waiters and thehotel-keeper and all the people staying in the hotel, and thedoctor and Marya Nikolaevna and Levin and Kitty. The sick manalone did not express this feeling, but on the contrary wasfurious at their not getting him doctors, and went on takingmedicine and talking of life. Only at rare moments, when theopium gave him an instant's relief from the never-ceasing pain,he would sometimes, half asleep, utter what was ever more intensein his heart than in all the others: "Oh, if it were only theend!" or: "When will it be over?"

　　His sufferings, steadily growing more intense, did their work andprepared him for death. There was no position in which he wasnot in pain, there was not a minute in which he was unconsciousof it, not a limb, not a part of his body that did not ache andcause him agony. Even the memories, the impressions, thethoughts of this body awakened in him now the same aversion asthe body itself. The sight of other people, their remarks, hisown reminiscences, everything was for him a source of agony.Those about him felt this, and instinctively did not allowthemselves to move freely, to talk, to express their wishesbefore him. All his life was merged in the one feeling ofsuffering and desire to be rid of it.

　　There was evidently coming over him that revulsion that wouldmake him look upon death as the goal of his desires, ashappiness. Hitherto each individual desire, aroused by sufferingor privation, such as hunger, fatigue, thirst, had been satisfiedby some bodily function giving pleasure. But now no physicalcraving or suffering received relief, and the effort to relievethem only caused fresh suffering. And so all desires were mergedin one--the desire to be rid of all his sufferings and theirsource, the body. But he had no words to express this desire ofdeliverance, and so he did not speak of it, and from habit askedfor the satisfaction of desires which could not now be satisfied."Turn me over on the other side," he would say, and immediatelyafter he would ask to be turned back again as before. "Give mesome broth. Take away the broth. Talk of something: why are yousilent?" And directly they began to talk ho would close his eyes,and would show weariness, indifference, and loathing.

　　On the tenth day from their arrival at the town, Kitty wasunwell. She suffered from headache and sickness, and she couldnot get up all the morning.

　　The doctor opined that the indisposition arose from fatigue andexcitement, and prescribed rest.

　　After dinner, however, Kitty got up and went as usual with herwork to the sick man. He looked at her sternly when she came in,and smiled contemptuously when she said she had been unwell.That day he was continually blowing his nose, and groaningpiteously.

　　"How do you feel?" she asked him.

　　"Worse," he articulated with difficulty. "In pain!"

　　"In pain, where?"

　　"Everywhere."

　　"It will be over today, you will see," said Marya Nikolaevna.Though it was said in a whisper, the sick man, whose hearingLevin had noticed was very keen, must have heard. Levin saidhush to her, and looked round at the sick man. Nikolay hadheard; but these words produced no effect on him. His eyes hadstill the same intense, reproachful look.

　　"Why do you think so?" Levin asked her, when she had followed himinto the corridor.

　　"He has begun picking at himself," said Marya Nikolaevna.

　　"How do you mean?"

　　"Like this," she said, tugging at the folds of her woolen skirt.Levin noticed, indeed, that all that day the patient pulled athimself, as it were, trying to snatch something away.

　　Marya Nikolaevna's prediction came true. Towards night the sickman was not able to lift his hands, and could only gaze beforehim with the same intensely concentrated expression in his eyes.Even when his brother or Kitty bent over him, so that he couldsee them, he looked just the same. Kitty sent for the priest toread the prayer for the dying.

　　While the priest was reading it, the dying man did not show anysign of life; his eyes were closed. Levin, Kitty, and MaryaNikolaevna stood at the bedside. The priest had not quitefinished reading the prayer when the dying man stretched, sighed,and opened his eyes. The priest, on finishing the prayer, putthe cross to the cold forehead, then slowly returned it to thestand, and after standing for two minutes more in silence, hetouched the huge, bloodless hand that was turning cold.

　　"He is gone," said the priest, and would have moved away; butsuddenly there was a faint stir in the mustaches of the dead manthat seemed glued together, and quite distinctly in the hush theyheard from the bottom of the chest the sharply defined sounds:

　　"Not quite...soon."

　　And a minute later the face brightened, a smile came out underthe mustaches, and the women who had gathered round begancarefully laying out the corpse.

　　The sight of his brother, and the nearness of death, revived inLevin that sense of horror in face of the insoluble enigma,together with the nearness and inevitability of death, that hadcome upon him that autumn evening when his brother had come tohim. This feeling was now even stronger than before; even lessthan before did he feel capable of apprehending the meaning ofdeath, and its inevitability rose up before him more terriblethan ever. But now, thanks to his wife's presence, that feelingdid not reduce him to despair. In spite of death, he felt theneed of life and love. He felt that love saved him from despair,and that this love, under the menace of despair, had become stillstronger and purer. The one mystery of death, still unsolved,had scarcely passed before his eyes, when another mystery hadarisen, as insoluble, urging him to love and to life.

　　The doctor confirmed his suppositions in regard to Kitty. Herindisposition was a symptom that she was with child.