Part One: Chapter 26

by Leo Tolstoy

　　In the morning Konstantin Levin left Moscow, and towards eveninghe reached home. On the journey in the train he talked to hisneighbors about politics and the new railways, and, just as inMoscow, he was overcome by a sense of confusion of ideas,dissatisfaction with himself, shame of something or other. Butwhen he got out at his own station, when he saw his one-eyedcoachman, Ignat, with the collar of his coat turned up; when, inthe dim light reflected by the station fires, he saw his ownsledge, his own horses with their tails tied up, in their harnesstrimmed with rings and tassels; when the coachman Ignat, as heput in his luggage, told him the village news, that thecontractor had arrived, and that Pava had calved,--he felt thatlittle by little the confusion was clearing up, and the shame andself-dissatisfaction were passing away. He felt this at the meresight of Ignat and the horses; but when he had put on thesheepskin brought for him, had sat down wrapped in the sledge,and had driven off pondering on the work that lay before him inthe village, and staring at the side-horse, that had been hissaddle-horse, past his prime now, but a spirited beast from theDon, he began to see what had happened to him in quite adifferent light. He felt himself, and did not want to be any oneelse. All he wanted now was to be better than before. In thefirst place he resolved that from that day he would give uphoping for any extraordinary happiness, such as marriage musthave given him, and consequently he would not so disdain what hereally had. Secondly, he would never again let himself give wayto low passion, the memory of which had so tortured him when hehad been making up his mind to make an offer. Then rememberinghis brother Nikolay, he resolved to himself that he would neverallow himself to forget him, that he would follow him up, and notlose sight of him, so as to be ready to help when things shouldgo ill with him. And that would be soon, he felt. Then, too,his brother's talk of communism, which he had treated so lightlyat the time, now made him think. He considered a revolution ineconomic conditions nonsense. But he always felt the injusticeof his own abundance in comparison with the poverty of thepeasants, and now he determined that so as to feel quite in theright, though he had worked hard and lived by no meansluxuriously before, he would now work still harder, and wouldallow himself even less luxury. And all this seemed to him soeasy a conquest over himself that he spent the whole drive in thepleasantest daydreams. With a resolute feeling of hope in a new,better life, he reached home before nine o'clock at night.

　　The snow of the little quadrangle before the house was lit up bya light in the bedroom windows of his old nurse, AgafeaMihalovna, who performed the duties of housekeeper in his house.She was not yet asleep. Kouzma, waked up by her, came sidlingsleepily out onto the steps. A setter bitch, Laska, ran out too,almost upsetting Kouzma, and whining, turned round about Levin'sknees, jumping up and longing, but not daring, to put herforepaws on his chest.

　　"You're soon back again, sir," said Agafea Mihalovna.

　　"I got tired of it, Agafea Mihalovna. With friends, one is well;but at home, one is better," he answered, and went into hisstudy.

　　The study was slowly lit up as the candle was brought in. Thefamiliar details came out: the stag's horns, the bookshelves,the looking-glass, the stove with its ventilator, which had longwanted mending, his father's sofa, a large table, on the table anopen book, a broken ash tray, a manuscript book with hishandwriting. As he saw all this, there came over him for aninstant a doubt of the possibility of arranging the new life, ofwhich he had been dreaming on the road. All these traces of hislife seemed to clutch him, and to say to him: "No, you're notgoing to get away from us, and you're not going to be different,but you're going to be the same as you've always been; withdoubts, everlasting dissatisfaction with yourself, vain effortsto amend, and falls, and everlasting expectation, of a happinesswhich you won't get, and which isn't possible for you."

　　This the tings said to him, but another voice in his heart wastelling him that he must not fall under the sway of the past, andthat one can do anything with oneself. And hearing that voice,he went into the corner where stood his two heavy dumbbells, andbegan brandishing them like a gymnast, trying to restore hisconfident temper. There was a creak of steps at the door. Hehastily put down the dumbbells.

　　The bailiff came in, and said everything, thank God, was doingwell; but informed him that the buckwheat in the new dryingmachine had been a little scorched. This piece of news irritatedLevin. The new drying machine had been constructed and partlyinvented by Levin. The bailiff had always been against thedrying machine, and now it was with suppressed triumph that heannounced that the buckwheat had been scorched. Levin was firmlyconvinced that if the buckwheat had been scorched, it was onlybecause the precautions had not been taken, for which he hadhundreds of times given orders. He was annoyed, and reprimandedthe bailiff. But there had been an important and joyful event:Pava, his best cow, an expensive beast, bought at a show, hadcalved.

　　"Kouzma, give me my sheepskin. And you tell them to take alantern. I'll come and look at her," he said to the bailiff.

　　The cowhouse for the more valuable cows was just behind thehouse. Walking across the yard, passing a snowdrift by the lilactree, he went into the cowhouse. There was the warm, steamysmell of dung when the frozen door was opened, and the cows,astonished at the unfamiliar light of the lantern, stirred on thefresh straw. He caught a glimpse of the broad, smooth, black andpiebald back of Hollandka. Berkoot, the bull, was lying downwith his ring in his lip, and seemed about to get up, but thoughtbetter of it, and only gave two snorts as they passed by him.Pava, a perfect beauty, huge as a hippopotamus, with her backturned to them, prevented their seeing the calf, as she sniffedher all over.

　　Levin went into the pen, looked Pava over, and lifted the red andspotted calf onto her long, tottering legs. Pava, uneasy, beganlowing, but when Levin put the calf close to her she was soothed,and, sighing heavily, began licking her with her rough tongue.The calf, fumbling, poked her nose under her mother's udder, andstiffened her tail out straight.

　　"Here, bring the light, Fyodor, this way," said Levin, examiningthe calf. "Like the mother! though the color takes after thefather; but that's nothing. Very good. Long and broad in thehaunch. Vassily Fedorovitch, isn't she splendid?" he said to thebailiff, quite forgiving him for the buckwheat under theinfluence of his delight in the calf.

　　"How could she fail to be? Oh, Semyon the contractor came theday after you left. You must settle with him, KonstantinDmitrievitch," said the bailiff. "I did inform you about themachine."

　　This question was enough to take Levin back to all the details ofhis work on the estate, which was on a large scale, andcomplicated. He went straight from the cowhouse to the countinghouse, and after a little conversation with the bailiff andSemyon the contractor, he went back to the house and straightupstairs to the drawing room.