Part Eight: Chapter 7

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Agafea Mihalovna went out on tiptoe; the nurse let down theblind, chased a fly out from under the muslin canopy of the crib,and a bumblebee struggling on the window-frame, and sat downwaving a faded branch of birch over the mother and the baby.

　　"How hot it is! if God would send a drop of rain," she said.

　　"Yes, yes, sh--sh--sh--" was all Kitty answered, rocking alittle, and tenderly squeezing the plump little arm, with rollsof fat at the wrist, which Mitya still waved feebly as he openedand shut his eyes. That hand worried Kitty; she longed to kissthe little hand, but was afraid to for fear of waking the baby.At last the little hand ceased waving, and the eyes closed. Onlyfrom time to time, as he went on sucking, the baby raised hislong, curly eyelashes and peeped at his mother with wet eyes,that looked black in the twilight. The nurse had left offfanning, and was dozing. From above came the peals of the oldprince's voice, and the chuckle of Katavasov.

　　"They have got into talk without me," thought Kitty, "but stillit's vexing that Kostya's out. He's sure to have gone to thebee house again. Though it's a pity he's there so often, stillI'm glad. It distracts his mind. He's become altogether happierand better now than in the spring. He used to be so gloomy andworried that I felt frightened for him. And how absurd he is!"she whispered, smiling.

　　She knew what worried her husband. It was his unbelief.Although, if she had been asked whether she supposed that in thefuture life, if he did not believe, he would be damned, she wouldhave had to admit that he would be damned, his unbelief did notcause her unhappiness. And she, confessing that for anunbeliever there can be no salvation, and loving her husband'ssoul more than anything in the world, thought with a smile of hisunbelief, and told herself that he was absurd.

　　"What does he keep reading philosophy of some sort for all thisyear?" she wondered. "If it's all written in those books, he canunderstand them. If it's all wrong, why does he read them? Hesays himself that he would like to believe. Then why is it hedoesn't believe? Surely from his thinking so much? And hethinks so much from being solitary. He's always alone, alone.He can't talk about it all to us. I fancy he'll be glad of thesevisitors, especially Katavasov. He likes discussions with them,"she thought, and passed instantly to the consideration of whereit would be more convenient to put Katavasov, to sleep alone orto share Sergey Ivanovitch's room. And then an idea suddenlystruck her, which made her shudder and even disturb Mitya, whoglanced severely at her. "I do believe the laundress hasn't sentthe washing yet, and all the best sheets are in use. If I don'tsee to it, Agafea Mihalovna will give Sergey Ivanovitch the wrongsheets," and at the very idea of this the blood rushed to Kitty'sface.

　　"Yes, I will arrange it," she decided, and going back to herformer thoughts, she remembered that some spiritual question ofimportance had been interrupted, and she began to recall what."Yes, Kostya, an unbeliever," she thought again with a smile.

　　"Well, an unbeliever then! Better let him always be one thanlike Madame Stahl, or what I tried to be in those days abroad.No, he won't ever sham anything."

　　And a recent instance of his goodness rose vividly to her mind.A fortnight ago a penitent letter had come from StepanArkadyevitch to Dolly. He besought her to save his honor, tosell her estate to pay his debts. Dolly was in despair, shedetested her husband, despised him, pitied him, resolved on aseparation, resolved to refuse, but ended by agreeing to sellpart of her property. After that, with an irrepressible smile oftenderness, Kitty recalled her husband's shamefacedembarrassment, his repeated awkward efforts to approach thesubject, and how at last, having thought of the one means ofhelping Dolly without wounding her pride, he had suggested toKitty--what had not occurred to her before--that she should giveup her share of the property.

　　"He an unbeliever indeed! With his heart, his dread of offendinganyone, even a child! Everything for others, nothing forhimself. Sergey Ivanovitch simply considers it as Kostya's dutyto be his steward. And it's the same with his sister. Now Dollyand her children are under his guardianship; all these peasantswho come to him every day, as though he were bound to be at theirservice."

　　"Yes, only be like your father, only like him," she said, handingMitya over to the nurse, and putting her lips to his cheek.