Part Six: Chapter 11

by Leo Tolstoy

　　When Levin and Stepan Arkadyevitch reached the peasant's hutwhere Levin always used to stay, Veslovsky was already there. Hewas sitting in the middle of the hut, clinging with both hands tothe bench from which he was being pulled by a soldier, thebrother of the peasant's wife, who was helping him off with hismiry boots. Veslovsky was laughing his infectious, good-humoredlaugh.

　　"I've only just come. Ils ont ete charmants. Just fancy, theygave me drink, fed me! Such bread, it was exquisite! Delicieux!And the vodka, I never tasted any better. And they would nottake a penny for anything. And they kept saying: 'Excuse ourhomely ways.'"

　　"What should they take anything for? They were entertaining you,to be sure. Do you suppose they keep vodka for sale?" said thesoldier, succeeding at last in pulling the soaked boot off theblackened stocking.

　　In spite of the dirtiness of the hut, which was all muddied bytheir boots and the filthy dogs licking themselves clean, and thesmell of marsh mud and powder that filled the room, and theabsence of knives and forks, the party drank their tea and atetheir supper with a relish only known to sportsmen. Washed andclean, they went into a hay-barn swept ready for them, where thecoachman had been making up beds for the gentlemen.

　　Though it was dusk, not one of them wanted to go to sleep.

　　After wavering among reminiscences and anecdotes of guns, ofdogs, and of former shooting parties, the conversation rested ona topic that interested all of them. After Vassenka had severaltimes over expressed his appreciation of this delightfulsleeping place among the fragrant hay, this delightful brokencart (he supposed it to be broken because the shafts had beentaken out), of the good nature of the peasants that had treatedhim to vodka, of the dogs who lay at the feet of their respectivemasters, Oblonsky began telling them of a delightful shootingparty at Malthus's, where he had stayed the previous summer.

　　Malthus was a well-known capitalist, who had made his money byspeculation in railway shares. Stepan Arkadyevitch describedwhat grouse moors this Malthus had bought in the Tver province,and how they were preserved, and of the carriages and dogcarts inwhich the shooting party had been driven, and the luncheonpavilion that had been rigged up at the marsh.

　　"I don't understand you," said Levin, sitting up in the hay; "howis it such people don't disgust you? I can understand a lunchwith Lafitte is all very pleasant, but don't you dislike justthat very sumptuousness? All these people, just like our spiritmonopolists in old days, get their money in a way that gains themthe contempt of everyone. They don't care for their contempt,and then they use their dishonest gains to buy off the contemptthey have deserved."

　　"Perfectly true!" chimed in Vassenka Veslovsky. "Perfectly!Oblonsky, of course, goes out of bonhomie, but other people say:'Well, Oblonsky stays with them.'..."

　　"Not a bit of it." Levin could hear that Oblonsky was smiling ashe spoke. "I simply don't consider him more dishonest than anyother wealthy merchant or nobleman. They've all made their moneyalike--by their work and their intelligence."

　　"Oh, by what work? Do you call it work to get hold ofconcessions and speculate with them?"

　　"Of course it's work. Work in this sense, that if it were notfor him and others like him, there would have been no railways."

　　"But that's not work, like the work of a peasant or a learnedprofession."

　　"Granted, but it's work in the sense that his activity produces aresult--the railways. But of course you think the railwaysuseless."

　　"No, that's another question; I am prepared to admit thatthey're useful. But all profit that is out of proportion to thelabor expended is dishonest."

　　"But who is to define what is proportionate?"

　　"Making profit by dishonest means, by trickery," said Levin,conscious that he could not draw a distinct line between honestyand dishonesty. "Such as banking, for instance," he went on."It's an evil--the amassing of huge fortunes without labor, justthe same thing as with the spirit monopolies, it's only the formthat's changed. Le roi est mort, vive le roi. No sooner werethe spirit monopolies abolished than the railways came up, andbanking companies; that, too, is profit without work."

　　"Yes, that may all be very true and clever.... Lie down, Krak!"Stepan Arkadyevitch called to his dog, who was scratching andturning over all the hay. He was obviously convinced of thecorrectness of his position, and so talked serenely and withouthaste. "But you have not drawn the line between honest anddishonest work. That I receive a bigger salary than my chiefclerk, though he knows more about the work than I do--that'sdishonest, I suppose?"

　　"I can't say."

　　"Well, but I can tell you: your receiving some five thousand,let's say, for your work on the land, while our host, the peasanthere, however hard he works, can never get more than fiftyroubles, is just as dishonest as my earning more than my chiefclerk, and Malthus getting more than a station-master. No, quitethe contrary; I see that society takes up a sort of antagonisticattitude to these people, which is utterly baseless, and I fancythere's envy at the bottom of it...."

　　"No, that's unfair," said Veslovsky; "how could envy come in?There is something not nice about that sort of business."

　　"You say," Levin went on, "that it's unjust for me to receivefive thousand, while the peasant has fifty; that's true. It isunfair, and I feel it, but..."

　　"It really is. Why is it we spend our time riding, drinking,shooting, doing nothing, while they are forever at work?" saidVassenka Veslovsky, obviously for the first time in his lifereflecting on the question, and consequently considering it withperfect sincerity.

　　"Yes, you feel it, but you don't give him your property," saidStepan Arkadyevitch, intentionally, as it seemed, provokingLevin.

　　There had arisen of late something like a secret antagonismbetween the two brothers-in-law; as though, since they hadmarried sisters, a kind of rivalry had sprung up between them asto which was ordering his life best, and now this hostilityshowed itself in the conversation, as it began to take a personalnote.

　　"I don't give it away, because no one demands that from me, andif I wanted to, I could not give it away," answered Levin, "andhave no one to give it to."

　　"Give it to this peasant, he would not refuse it."

　　"Yes, but how am I to give it up? Am I to go to him and make adeed of conveyance?"

　　"I don't know; but if you are convinced that you have noright..."

　　"I'm not at all convinced. On the contrary, I feel I have noright to give it up, that I have duties both to the land and tomy family."

　　"No, excuse me, but if you consider this inequality is unjust,why is it you don't act accordingly?..."

　　"Well, I do act negatively on that idea, so far as not trying toincrease the difference of position existing between him and me."

　　"No, excuse me, that's a paradox."

　　"Yes, there's something of a sophistry about that," Veslovskyagreed. "Ah! our host; so you're not asleep yet?" he said to thepeasant who came into the barn, opening the creaking door. "Howis it you're not asleep?"

　　"No, how's one to sleep! I thought our gentlemen would beasleep, but I heard them chattering. I want to get a hook fromhere. She won't bite?" he added, stepping cautiously with hisbare feet.

　　"And where are you going to sleep?"

　　"We are going out for the night with the beasts."

　　"Ah, what a night!" said Veslovsky, looking out at the edge ofthe hut and the unharnessed wagonette that could be seen in thefaint light of the evening glow in the great frame of the opendoors. "But listen, there are women's voices singing, and, on myword, not badly too. Who's that singing, my friend?"

　　"That's the maids from hard by here."

　　"Let's go, let's have a walk! We shan't go to sleep, you know.Oblonsky, come along!"

　　"If one could only do both, lie here and go," answered Oblonsky,stretching. "It's capital lying here."

　　"Well, I shall go by myself," said Veslovsky, getting upeagerly, and putting on his shoes and stockings. "Good-bye,gentlemen. If it's fun, I'll fetch you. You've treated me tosome good sport, and I won't forget you."

　　"He really is a capital fellow, isn't he?" said StepanArkadyevitch, when Veslovsky had gone out and the peasant hadclosed the door after him.

　　"Yes, capital," answered Levin, still thinking of the subject oftheir conversation just before. It seemed to him that he hadclearly expressed his thoughts and feelings to the best of hiscapacity, and yet both of them, straightforward men and notfools, had said with one voice that he was comforting himselfwith sophistries. This disconcerted him.

　　"It's just this, my dear boy. One must do one of two things:either admit that the existing order of society is just, and thenstick up for one's rights in it; or acknowledge that you areenjoying unjust privileges, as I do, and then enjoy them and besatisfied."

　　"No, if it were unjust, you could not enjoy these advantages andbe satisfied--at least I could not. The great thing for me isto feel that I'm not to blame."

　　"What do you say, why not go after all?" said StepanArkadyevitch, evidently weary of the strain of thought. "Weshan't go to sleep, you know. Come, let's go!"

　　Levin did not answer. What they had said in the conversation,that he acted justly only in a negative sense, absorbed histhoughts. "Can it be that it's only possible to be justnegatively?" he was asking himself.

　　"How strong the smell of the fresh hay is, though," said StepanArkadyevitch, getting up. "There's not a chance of sleeping.Vassenka has been getting up some fun there. Do you hear thelaughing and his voice? Hadn't we better go? Come along!"

　　"No, I'm not coming," answered Levin.

　　"Surely that's not a matter of principle too," said StepanArkadyevitch, smiling, as he felt about in the dark for his cap.

　　"It's not a matter of principle, but why should I go?"

　　"But do you know you are preparing trouble for yourself," saidStepan Arkadyevitch, finding his cap and getting up.

　　"How so?"

　　"Do you suppose I don't see the line you've taken up with yourwife? I heard how it's a question of the greatest consequence,whether or not you're to be away for a couple of days' shooting.That's all very well as an idyllic episode, but for your wholelife that won't answer. A man must be independent; he has hismasculine interests. A man has to be manly," said Oblonsky,opening the door.

　　"In what way? To go running after servant girls?" said Levin.

　　"Why not, if it amuses him? Ca ne tire pas a consequence. Itwon't do my wife any harm, and it'll amuse me. The great thingis to respect the sanctity of the home. There should be nothingin the home. But don't tie your own hands."

　　"Perhaps so," said Levin dryly, and he turned on his side."Tomorrow, early, I want to go shooting, and I won't wake anyone,and shall set off at daybreak."

　　"Messieurs, venes vite!" they heard the voice of Veslovsky comingback. "Charmante! I've made such a discovery. Charmante! aperfect Gretchen, and I've already made friends with her.Really, exceedingly pretty," he declared in a tone of approval,as though she had been made pretty entirely on his account, andhe was expressing his satisfaction with the entertainment thathad been provided for him.

　　Levin pretended to be asleep, while Oblonsky, putting on hisslippers, and lighting a cigar, walked out of the barn, and soontheir voices were lost.

　　For a long while Levin could not get to sleep. He heard thehorses munching hay, then he heard the peasant and his elder boygetting ready for the night, and going off for the night watchwith the beasts, then he heard the soldier arranging his bed onthe other side of the barn, with his nephew, the younger son oftheir peasant host. He heard the boy in his shrill little voicetelling his uncle what he thought about the dogs, who seemed tohim huge and terrible creatures, and asking what the dogs weregoing to hunt next day, and the soldier in a husky, sleepy voice,telling him the sportsmen were going in the morning to the marsh,and would shoot with their guns; and then, to check the boy'squestions, he said, "Go to sleep, Vaska; go to sleep, or you'llcatch it," and soon after he began snoring himself, andeverything was still. He could only hear the snort of thehorses, and the guttural cry of a snipe.

　　"Is it really only negative?" he repeated to himself. "Well,what of it? It's not my fault." And he began thinking about thenext day.

　　"Tomorrow I'll go out early, and I'll make a point of keepingcool. There are lots of snipe; and there are grouse too. WhenI come back there'll be the note from Kitty. Yes, Stiva may beright, I'm not manly with her, I'm tied to her apron-strings....Well, it can't be helped! Negative again...."

　　Half asleep, he heard the laughter and mirthful talk of Veslovskyand Stepan Arkadyevitch. For an instant he opened his eyes: themoon was up, and in the open doorway, brightly lighted up by themoonlight, they were standing talking. Stepan Arkadyevitch wassaying something of the freshness of one girl, comparing her to afreshly peeled nut, and Veslovsky with his infectious laugh wasrepeating some words, probably said to him by a peasant: "Ah, youdo your best to get round her!" Levin, half asleep, said:

　　"Gentlemen, tomorrow before daylight!" and fell asleep.