Part Three: Chapter 7

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Stephan Arkadyevitch had gone to Petersburg to perform the mostnatural and essential official duty--so familiar to everyone inthe government service, though incomprehensible to outsiders--that duty, but for which one could hardly be in governmentservice, of reminding the ministry of his existence--and having,for the due performance of this rite, taken all the availablecash from home, was gaily and agreeably spending his days at theraces and in the summer villas. Meanwhile Dolly and the childrenhad moved into the country, to cut down expenses as much aspossible. She had gone to Ergushovo, the estate that had beenher dowry, and the one where in spring the forest had been sold.It was nearly forty miles from Levin's Pokrovskoe. The big, oldhouse at Ergushovo had been pulled down long ago, and the oldprince had had the lodge done up and built on to. Twenty yearsbefore, when Dolly was a child, the lodge had been roomy andcomfortable, though, like all lodges, it stood sideways to theentrance avenue, and faced the south. But by now this lodge wasold and dilapidated. When Stepan Arkadyevitch had gone down inthe spring to sell the forest, Dolly had begged him to look overthe house and order what repairs might be needed. StepanArkadyevitch, like all unfaithful husbands indeed, was verysolicitous for his wife's comfort, and he had himself looked overthe house, and given instructions about everything that heconsidered necessary. What he considered necessary was to coverall the furniture with cretonne, to put up curtains, to weed thegarden, to make a little bridge on the pond, and to plantflowers. But he forgot many other essential matters, the want ofwhich greatly distressed Darya Alexandrovna later on.

　　In spite of Stepan Arkadyevitch's efforts to be an attentivefather and husband, he never could keep in his mind that he had awife and children. He had bachelor tastes, and it was inaccordance with them that he shaped his life. On his return toMoscow he informed his wife with pride that everything was ready,that the house would be a little paradise, and that he advisedher most certainly to go. His wife's staying away in the countrywas very agreeable to Stepan Arkadyevitch from every point ofview: it did the children good, it decreased expenses, and itleft him more at liberty. Darya Alexandrovna regarded staying inthe country for the summer as essential for the children,especially for the little girl, who had not succeeded inregaining her strength after the scarlatina, and also as a meansof escaping the petty humiliations, the little bills owing to thewood-merchant, the fishmonger, the shoemaker, which made hermiserable. Besides this, she was pleased to go away to thecountry because she was dreaming of getting her sister Kitty tostay with her there. Kitty was to be back from abroad in themiddle of the summer, and bathing had been prescribed for her.Kitty wrote that no prospect was so alluring as to spend thesummer with Dolly at Ergushovo, full of childish associations forboth of them.

　　The first days of her existence in the country were very hard forDolly. She used to stay in the country as a child, and theimpression she had retained of it was that the country was arefuge from all the unpleasantness of the town, that life there,though not luxurious--Dolly could easily make up her mind tothat--was cheap and comfortable; that there was plenty ofeverything, everything was cheap, everything could be got, andchildren were happy. But now coming to the country as the headof a family, she perceived that it was all utterly unlike whatshe had fancied.

　　The day after their arrival there was a heavy fall of rain and inthe night the water came through in the corridor and in thenursery, so that the beds had to be carried into the drawingroom. There was no kitchen maid to be found; of the nine cows,it appeared from the words of the cowherd-woman that some wereabout to calve, others had just calved, others were old, andothers again hard-uddered; there was not butter nor milk enougheven for the children. There were no eggs. They could get nofowls; old, purplish, stringy cocks were all they had forroasting and boiling. Impossible to get women to scrub thefloors--all were potato-hoeing. Driving was out of thequestion, because one of the horses was restive, and bolted inthe shafts. There was no place where they could bathe; the wholeof the river-bank was trampled by the cattle and open to theroad; even walks were impossible, for the cattle strayed into thegarden through a gap in the hedge, and there was one terriblebull, who bellowed, and therefore might be expected to goresomebody. There were no proper cupboards for their clothes; whatcupboards there were either would not close at all, or burst openwhenever anyone passed by them. There were no pots and pans;there was no copper in the washhouse, nor even an ironing-boardin the maids' room.

　　Finding instead of peace and rest all these, from her point ofview, fearful calamities, Darya Alexandrovna was at first indespair. She exerted herself to the utmost, felt thehopelessness of the position, and was every instant suppressingthe tears that started into her eyes. The bailiff, a retiredquartermaster, whom Stepan Arkadyevitch had taken a fancy to andhad appointed bailiff on account of his handsome and respectfulappearance as a hall-porter, showed no sympathy for DaryaAlexandrovna's woes. He said respectfully, "nothing can be done,the peasants are such a wretched lot," and did nothing to helpher.

　　The position seemed hopeless. But in the Oblonskys' household,as in all families indeed, there was one inconspicuous but mostvaluable and useful person, Marya Philimonovna. She soothed hermistress, assured her that everything would come round (it washer expression, and Matvey had borrowed it from her), and withoutfuss or hurry proceeded to set to work herself. She hadimmediately made friends with the bailiff's wife, and on the veryfirst day she drank tea with her and the bailiff under theacacias, and reviewed all the circumstances of the position.Very soon Marya Philimonovna had established her club, so to say,under the acacias, and there it was, in this club, consisting ofthe bailiff's wife, the village elder, and the counting houseclerk, that the difficulties of existence were gradually smoothedaway, and in a week's time everything actually had come round.The roof was mended, a kitchen maid was found--a crony of thevillage elder's--hens were bought, the cows began giving milk,the garden hedge was stopped up with stakes, the carpenter made amangle, hooks were put in the cupboards, and they ceased to burstopen spontaneously, and an ironing-board covered with army clothwas placed across from the arm of a chair to the chest ofdrawers, and there was a smell of flatirons in the maids' room.

　　"Just see, now, and you were quite in despair," said MaryaPhilimonovna, pointing to the ironing-board. They even rigged upa bathing-shed of straw hurdles. Lily began to bathe, and DaryaAlexandrovna began to realize, if only in part, her expectations,if not of a peaceful, at least of a comfortable, life in thecountry. Peaceful with six children Darya Alexandrovna could notbe. One would fall ill, another might easily become so, a thirdwould be without something necessary, a fourth would showsymptoms of a bad disposition, and so on. Rare indeed were thebrief periods of peace. But these cares and anxieties were forDarya Alexandrovna the sole happiness possible. Had it not beenfor them, she would have been left alone to brood over herhusband who did not love her. And besides, hard though it wasfor the mother to bear the dread of illness, the illnessesthemselves, and the grief of seeing signs of evil propensities inher children--the children themselves were even now repaying herin small joys for her sufferings. Those joys were so small thatthey passed unnoticed, like gold in sand, and at bad moments shecould see nothing but the pain, nothing but sand; but there weregood moments too when she saw nothing but the joy, nothing butgold.

　　Now in the solitude of the country, she began to be more and morefrequently aware of those joys. Often, looking at them, shewould make every possible effort to persuade herself that she wasmistaken, that she as a mother was partial to her children. Allthe same, she could not help saying to herself that she hadcharming children, all six of them in different ways, but a setof children such as is not often to be met with, and she washappy in them, and proud of them.