Part One: Chapter 27

by Leo Tolstoy

　　The house was big and old-fashioned, and Levin, though he livedalone, had the whole house heated and used. He knew that thiswas stupid, he knew that it was positively not right, andcontrary to his present new plans, but this house was a wholeworld to Levin. It was the world in which his father and motherhad lived and died. They had lived just the life that to Levinseemed the ideal of perfection, and that he had dreamed ofbeginning with his wife, his family.

　　Levin scarcely remembered his mother. His conception of her wasfor him a sacred memory, and his future wife was bound to be inhis imagination a repetition of that exquisite, holy ideal of awoman that his mother had been.

　　He was so far from conceiving of love for woman apart frommarriage that he positively pictured to himself first the family,and only secondarily the woman who would give him a family. Hisideas of marriage were, consequently, quite unlike those of thegreat majority of his acquaintances, for whom getting married wasone of the numerous facts of social life. For Levin it was thechief affair of life, on which its whole happiness turned. Andnow he had to give up that.

　　When he had gone into the little drawing room, where he alwayshad tea, and had settled himself in his armchair with a book ,and Agafea Mihalovna had brought him tea, and with her usual,"Well, I'll stay a while, sir," had taken a chair in the window,he felt that, however strange it might be, he had not parted fromhis daydreams, and that he could not live without them. Whetherwith her, or with another, still it would be. He was reading abook, and thinking of what he was reading, and stopping to listento Agafea Mihalovna, who gossiped away without flagging, and yetwith all that, all sorts of pictures of family life and work inthe future rose disconnectedly before his imagination. He feltthat in the depth of his soul something had been put in itsplace, settled down, and laid to rest.

　　He heard Agafea Mihalovna talking of how Prohor had forgotten hisduty to God, and with the money Levin had given him to buy ahorse, had been drinking without stopping, and had beaten hiswife till he'd half killed her. He listened, and read his book,and recalled the whole train of ideas suggested by his reading.It was Tyndall's Treatise on Heat. He recalled his owncriticisms of Tyndall of his complacent satisfaction in thecleverness of his experiments, and for his lack of philosophicinsight. And suddenly there floated into his mind the joyfulthought: "In two years' time I shall have two Dutch cows; Pavaherself will perhaps still be alive, a dozen young daughters ofBerkoot and the three others--how lovely!"

　　He took up his book again. "Very good, electricity and heat arethe same thing; but is it possible to substitute the one quantityfor the other in the equation for the solution of any problem?No. Well, then what of it? The connection between all theforces of nature is felt instinctively.... It's particulary niceif Pava's daughter should be a red-spotted cow, and all the herdwill take after her, and the other three, too! Splendid! To goout with my wife and visitors to meet the herd.... My wife says,Kostya and I looked after that calf like a child.' 'How can itinterest you so much?' says a visitor. 'Everything thatinterests him, interests me.' But who will she be?" And heremembered what had happened at Moscow.... "Well, there'snothing to be done.... It's not my fault. But now everythingshall go on in a new way. It's nonsense to pretend that lifewon't let one, that the past won't let one. One must struggle tolive better, much better."... He raised his head, and fell todreaming. Old Laska, who had not yet fully digested her delightat his return, and had run out into the yard to bark, came backwagging her tail, and crept up to him, bringing in the scent offresh air, put her head under his hand, and whined plaintively,asking to be stroked.

　　"There, who'd have thought it?" said Agafea Mihalovna. "The dognow...why, she understands that her master's come home, and thathe's low-spirited."

　　"Why low-spirited?"

　　"Do you suppose I don't see it, sir? It's high time I should knowthe gentry. Why, I've grown up from a little thing with them.It's nothing, sir, so long as there's health and a clearconscience."

　　Levin looked intently at her, surprised at how well she knew histhought.

　　"Shall I fetch you another cup?" said she, and taking his cup shewent out.

　　Laska kept poking her head under his hand. He stroked her, andshe promptly curled up at his feet, laying her head on a hindpaw.And in token of all now being well and satisfactory, she openedher mouth a little, smacked her lips, and settling her stickylips more comfortably about her old teeth, she sank into blissfulrepose. Levin watched all her movements attentively.

　　"That's what I'll do," he said to himself; "that's what I'll do!Nothing's amiss.... All's well."