Part Two: Chapter 12

by Leo Tolstoy

　　In the early days after his return from Moscow, whenever Levinshuddered and grew red, remembering the disgrace of hisrejection, he said to himself: "This was just how I used toshudder and blush, thinking myself utterly lost, when I wasplucked in physics and did not get my remove; and how I thoughtmyself utterly ruined after I had mismanaged that affair of mysister's that was entrusted to me. And yet, now that years havepassed, I recall it and wonder that it could distress me somuch. It will be the same thing too with this trouble. Timewill go by and I shall not mind about this either."

　　But three months had passed and he had not left off minding aboutit; and it was as painful for him to think of it as it had beenthose first days. He could not be at peace because afterdreaming so long of family life, and feeling himself so ripe forit, he was still not married, and was further than ever frommarriage. He was painfully conscious himself, as were all abouthim, that at his years it is not well for man to be alone. Heremembered how before starting for Moscow he had once said to hiscowman Nikolay, a simple-hearted peasant, whom he liked talkingto: "Well, Nikolay! I mean to get married," and how Nikolay hadpromptly answered, as of a matter on which there could be nopossible doubt: "And high time too, Konstantin Demitrievitch."But marriage had now become further off than ever. The place wastaken, and whenever he tried to imagine any of the girls he knewin that place, he felt that it was utterly impossible. Moreover,the recollection of the rejection and the part he had played inthe affair tortured him with shame. However often he toldhimself that he was in no wise to blame in it, that recollection,like other humiliating reminiscences of a similar kind, made himtwinge and blush. There had been in his past, as in every man's,actions, recognized by him as bad, for which his conscience oughtto have tormented him; but the memory of these evil actions wasfar from causing him so much suffering as those trivial buthumiliating reminiscences. These wounds never healed. And withthese memories was now ranged his rejection and the pitifulposition in which he must have appeared to others that evening.But time and work did their part. Bitter memories were more andmore covered up by the incidents--paltry in his eyes, but reallyimportant--of his country life. Every week he thought lessoften of Kitty. He was impatiently looking forward to the newsthat she was married, or just going to be married, hoping thatsuch news would, like having a tooth out, completely cure him.

　　Meanwhile spring came on, beautiful and kindly, without thedelays and treacheries of spring,--one of those rare springs inwhich plants, beasts, and man rejoice alike. This lovely springroused Levin still more, and strengthened him in his resolutionof renouncing all his past and building up his lonely life firmlyand independently. Though many of the plans with which he hadreturned to the country had not been carried out, still his mostimportant resolution--that of purity--had been kept by him. Hewas free from that shame, which had usually harassed him after afall; and he could look everyone straight in the face. InFebruary he had received a letter from Marya Nikolaevna tellinghim that his brother Nikolay's health was getting worse, but thathe would not take advice, and in consequence of this letter Levinwent to Moscow to his brother's and succeeded in persuading himto see a doctor and to go to a watering-place abroad. Hesucceeded so well in persuading his brother, and in lending himmoney for the journey without irritating him, that he wassatisfied with himself in that matter. In addition to hisfarming, which called for special attention in spring, and inaddition to reading, Levin had begun that winter a work onagriculture, the plan of which turned on taking into account thecharacter of the laborer on the land as one of the unalterabledata of the question, like the climate and the soil, andconsequently deducing all the principles of scientific culture,not simply from the data of soil and climate, but from the dataof soil, climate, and a certain unalterable character of thelaborer. Thus, in spite of his solitude, or in consequence ofhis solitude, his life was exceedingly full. Only rarely hesuffered from an unsatisfied desire to communicate his strayideas to someone besides Agafea Mihalovna. With her indeed henot infrequently fell into discussion upon physics, the theory ofagriculture, and especially philosophy; philosophy was AgafeaMihalovna's favorite subject.

　　Spring was slow in unfolding. For the last few weeks it had beensteadily fine frosty weather. In the daytime it thawed in thesun, but at night there were even seven degrees of frost. Therewas such a frozen surface on the snow that they drove the wagonsanywhere off the roads. Easter came in the snow. Then all of asudden, on Easter Monday, a warm wind sprang up, storm cloudsswooped down, and for three days and three nights the warm,driving rain fell in streams. On Thursday the wind dropped, anda thick gray fog brooded over the land as though hiding themysteries of the transformations that were being wrought innature. Behind the fog there was the flowing of water, thecracking and floating of ice, the swift rush of turbid, foamingtorrents; and on the following Monday, in the evening, the fogparted, the storm clouds split up into little curling crests ofcloud, the sky cleared, and the real spring had come. In themorning the sun rose brilliant and quickly wore away the thinlayer of ice that covered the water, and all the warm air wasquivering with the steam that rose up from the quickened earth.The old grass looked greener, and the young grass thrust up itstiny blades; the buds of the guelder-rose and of the currant andthe sticky birch-buds were swollen with sap, and an exploring beewas humming about the golden blossoms that studded the willow.Larks trilled unseen above the velvety green fields and theice-covered stubble-land; peewits wailed over the low lands andmarshes flooded by the pools; cranes and wild geese flew highacross the sky uttering their spring calls. The cattle, bald inpatches where the new hair had not grown yet, lowed in thepastures; the bowlegged lambs frisked round their bleatingmothers. Nimble children ran about the drying paths, coveredwith the prints of bare feet. There was a merry chatter ofpeasant women over their linen at the pond, and the ring of axesin the yard, where the peasants were repairing ploughs andharrows. The real spring had come.