Book Seven: 1810-11 - Chapter VII

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Toward evening Ilagin took leave of Nicholas, who found that theywere so far from home that he accepted "Uncle's" offer that thehunting party should spend the night in his little village ofMikhaylovna.

　　"And if you put up at my house that will be better still. That's it,come on!" said "Uncle." "You see it's damp weather, and you couldrest, and the little countess could be driven home in a trap."

　　"Uncle's" offer was accepted. A huntsman was sent to Otradnoe fora trap, while Nicholas rode with Natasha and Petya to "Uncle's" house.

　　Some five male domestic serfs, big and little, rushed out to thefront porch to meet their master. A score of women serfs, old andyoung, as well as children, popped out from the back entrance tohave a look at the hunters who were arriving. The presence of Natasha-a woman, a lady, and on horseback- raised the curiosity of the serfsto such a degree that many of them came up to her, stared her in theface, and unabashed by her presence made remarks about her as thoughshe were some prodigy on show and not a human being able to hear orunderstand what was said about her.

　　"Arinka! Look, she sits sideways! There she sits and her skirtdangles.... See, she's got a little hunting horn!"

　　"Goodness gracious! See her knife?..."

　　"Isn't she a Tartar!"

　　"How is it you didn't go head over heels?" asked the boldest of all,addressing Natasha directly.

　　"Uncle" dismounted at the porch of his little wooden house whichstood in the midst of an overgrown garden and, after a glance at hisretainers, shouted authoritatively that the superfluous ones shouldtake themselves off and that all necessary preparations should be madeto receive the guests and the visitors.

　　The serfs all dispersed. "Uncle" lifted Natasha off her horse andtaking her hand led her up the rickety wooden steps of the porch.The house, with its bare, unplastered log walls, was not overclean- itdid not seem that those living in it aimed at keeping it spotless- butneither was it noticeably neglected. In the entry there was a smell offresh apples, and wolf and fox skins hung about.

　　"Uncle" led the visitors through the anteroom into a small hall witha folding table and red chairs, then into the drawing room with around birchwood table and a sofa, and finally into his private roomwhere there was a tattered sofa, a worn carpet, and portraits ofSuvorov, of the host's father and mother, and of himself in militaryuniform. The study smelt strongly of tobacco and dogs. "Uncle" askedhis visitors to sit down and make themselves at home, and then wentout of the room. Rugay, his back still muddy, came into the room andlay down on the sofa, cleaning himself with his tongue and teeth.Leading from the study was a passage in which a partition withragged curtains could be seen. From behind this came women'slaughter and whispers. Natasha, Nicholas, and Petya took off theirwraps and sat down on the sofa. Petya, leaning on his elbow, fellasleep at once. Natasha and Nicholas were silent. Their facesglowed, they were hungry and very cheerful. They looked at one another(now that the hunt was over and they were in the house, Nicholas nolonger considered it necessary to show his manly superiority overhis sister), Natasha gave him a wink, and neither refrained longfrom bursting into a peal of ringing laughter even before they had apretext ready to account for it.

　　After a while "Uncle" came in, in a Cossack coat, blue trousers, andsmall top boots. And Natasha felt that this costume, the very oneshe had regarded with surprise and amusement at Otradnoe, was just theright thing and not at all worse than a swallow-tail or frock coat."Uncle" too was in high spirits and far from being offended by thebrother's and sister's laughter (it could never enter his head thatthey might be laughing at his way of life) he himself joined in themerriment.

　　"That's right, young countess, that's it, come on! I never sawanyone like her!" said he, offering Nicholas a pipe with a long stemand, with a practiced motion of three fingers, taking down anotherthat had been cut short. "She's ridden all day like a man, and is asfresh as ever!

　　Soon after "Uncle's" reappearance the door was opened, evidentlyfrom the sound by a barefooted girl, and a stout, rosy, good-lookingwoman of about forty, with a double chin and full red lips, enteredcarrying a large loaded tray. With hospitable dignity and cordialityin her glance and in every motion, she looked at the visitors and,with a pleasant smile, bowed respectfully. In spite of her exceptionalstoutness, which caused her to protrude her chest and stomach andthrow back her head, this woman (who was "Uncle's" housekeeper) trodvery lightly. She went to the table, set down the tray, and with herplump white hands deftly took from it the bottles and various horsd'oeuvres and dishes and arranged them on the table. When she hadfinished, she stepped aside and stopped at the door with a smile onher face. "Here I am. I am she! Now do you understand 'Uncle'?" herexpression said to Rostov. How could one help understanding? Notonly Nicholas, but even Natasha understood the meaning of his puckeredbrow and the happy complacent smile that slightly puckered his lipswhen Anisya Fedorovna entered. On the tray was a bottle of herbwine, different kinds of vodka, pickled mushrooms, rye cakes made withbuttermilk, honey in the comb, still mead and sparkling mead,apples, nuts (raw and roasted), and nut-and-honey sweets. Afterwardsshe brought a freshly roasted chicken, ham, preserves made with honey,and preserves made with sugar.

　　All this was the fruit of Anisya Fedorovna's housekeeping,gathered and prepared by her. The smell and taste of it all had asmack of Anisya Fedorovna herself: a savor of juiciness,cleanliness, whiteness, and pleasant smiles.

　　"Take this, little Lady-Countess!" she kept saying, as she offeredNatasha first one thing and then another.

　　Natasha ate of everything and thought she had never seen or eatensuch buttermilk cakes, such aromatic jam, such honey-and-nut sweets,or such a chicken anywhere. Anisya Fedorovna left the room.

　　After supper, over their cherry brandy, Rostov and "Uncle" talked ofpast and future hunts, of Rugay and Ilagin's dogs, while Natasha satupright on the sofa and listened with sparkling eyes. She triedseveral times to wake Petya that he might eat something, but he onlymuttered incoherent words without waking up. Natasha felt solighthearted and happy in these novel surroundings that she onlyfeared the trap would come for her too soon. After a casual pause,such as often occurs when receiving friends for the first time inone's own house, "Uncle," answering a thought that was in hisvisitors' mind, said:

　　"This, you see, is how I am finishing my days... Death will come.That's it, come on! Nothing will remain. Then why harm anyone?"

　　"Uncle's" face was very significant and even handsome as he saidthis. Involuntarily Rostov recalled all the good he had heard abouthim from his father and the neighbors. Throughout the whole province"Uncle" had the reputation of being the most honorable anddisinterested of cranks. They called him in to decide family disputes,chose him as executor, confided secrets to him, elected him to be ajustice and to other posts; but he always persistently refusedpublic appointments, passing the autumn and spring in the fields onhis bay gelding, sitting at home in winter, and lying in his overgrowngarden in summer.

　　"Why don't you enter the service, Uncle?"

　　"I did once, but gave it up. I am not fit for it. That's it, comeon! I can't make head or tail of it. That's for you- I haven'tbrains enough. Now, hunting is another matter- that's it, come on!Open the door, there!" he shouted. "Why have you shut it?"

　　The door at the end of the passage led to the huntsmen's room, asthey called the room for the hunt servants.

　　There was a rapid patter of bare feet, and an unseen hand opened thedoor into the huntsmen's room, from which came the clear sounds of abalalayka on which someone, who was evidently a master of the art, wasplaying. Natasha had been listening to those strains for some time andnow went out into the passage to hear better.

　　"That's Mitka, my coachman.... I have got him a good balalayka.I'm fond of it," said "Uncle."

　　It was the custom for Mitka to play the balalayka in thehuntsmen's room when "Uncle" returned from the chase. "Uncle" was fondof such music.

　　"How good! Really very good!" said Nicholas with someunintentional superciliousness, as if ashamed to confess that thesounds pleased him very much.

　　"Very good?" said Natasha reproachfully, noticing her brother'stone. "Not 'very good' it's simply delicious!"

　　Just as "Uncle's" pickled mushrooms, honey, and cherry brandy hadseemed to her the best in the world, so also that song, at thatmoment, seemed to her the acme of musical delight.

　　"More, please, more!" cried Natasha at the door as soon as thebalalayka ceased. Mitka tuned up afresh, and recommenced thrumming thebalalayka to the air of My Lady, with trills and variations. "Uncle"sat listening, slightly smiling, with his head on one side. The airwas repeated a hundred times. The balalayka was retuned severaltimes and the same notes were thrummed again, but the listeners didnot grow weary of it and wished to hear it again and again. AnisyaFedorovna came in and leaned her portly person against the doorpost.

　　"You like listening?" she said to Natasha, with a smile extremelylike "Uncle's." "That's a good player of ours," she added.

　　"He doesn't play that part right!" said "Uncle" suddenly, with anenergetic gesture. "Here he ought to burst out- that's it, come on!-ought to burst out."

　　"Do you play then?" asked Natasha.

　　"Uncle" did not answer, but smiled.

　　"Anisya, go and see if the strings of my guitar are all right. Ihaven't touched it for a long time. That's it- come on! I've givenit up."

　　Anisya Fedorovna, with her light step, willingly went to fulfill hererrand and brought back the guitar.

　　Without looking at anyone, "Uncle" blew the dust off it and, tappingthe case with his bony fingers, tuned the guitar and settled himselfin his armchair. He took the guitar a little above the fingerboard,arching his left elbow with a somewhat theatrical gesture, and, with awink at Anisya Fedorovna, struck a single chord, pure and sonorous,and then quietly, smoothly, and confidently began playing in very slowtime, not My Lady, but the well-known song: Came a maiden down thestreet. The tune, played with precision and in exact time, began tothrill in the hearts of Nicholas and Natasha, arousing in them thesame kind of sober mirth as radiated from Anisya Fedorovna's wholebeing. Anisya Fedorovna flushed, and drawing her kerchief over herface went laughing out of the room. "Uncle" continued to playcorrectly, carefully, with energetic firmness, looking with achanged and inspired expression at the spot where Anisya Fedorovna hadjust stood. Something seemed to be laughing a little on one side ofhis face under his gray mustaches, especially as the song grew briskerand the time quicker and when, here and there, as he ran his fingersover the strings, something seemed to snap.

　　"Lovely, lovely! Go on, Uncle, go on!" shouted Natasha as soon as hehad finished. She jumped up and hugged and kissed him. "Nicholas,Nicholas!" she said, turning to her brother, as if asking him: "Whatis it moves me so?"

　　Nicholas too was greatly pleased by "Uncle's" playing, and "Uncle"played the piece over again. Anisya Fedorovna's smiling facereappeared in the doorway and behind hers other faces...

　　Fetching water clear and sweet, Stop, dear maiden, I entreat-played "Uncle" once more, running his fingers skillfully over thestrings, and then he stopped short and jerked his shoulders.

　　"Go on, Uncle dear," Natasha wailed in an imploring tone as if herlife depended on it.

　　"Uncle" rose, and it was as if there were two men in him: one ofthem smiled seriously at the merry fellow, while the merry fellowstruck a naive and precise attitude preparatory to a folk dance.

　　"Now then, niece!" he exclaimed, waving to Natasha the hand that hadjust struck a chord.

　　Natasha threw off the shawl from her shoulders, ran forward toface "Uncle," and setting her arms akimbo also made a motion withher shoulders and struck an attitude.

　　Where, how, and when had this young countess, educated by an emigreeFrench governess, imbibed from the Russian air she breathed thatspirit and obtained that manner which the pas de chale* would, onewould have supposed, long ago have effaced? But the spirit and themovements were those inimitable and unteachable Russian ones that"Uncle" had expected of her. As soon as she had struck her pose, andsmiled triumphantly, proudly, and with sly merriment, the fear thathad at first seized Nicholas and the others that she might not dothe right thing was at an end, and they were already admiring her.

　　*The French shawl dance.

　　She did the right thing with such precision, such completeprecision, that Anisya Fedorovna, who had at once handed her thehandkerchief she needed for the dance, had tears in her eyes, thoughshe laughed as she watched this slim, graceful countess, reared insilks and velvets and so different from herself, who yet was able tounderstand all that was in Anisya and in Anisya's father and motherand aunt, and in every Russian man and woman.

　　"Well, little countess; that's it- come on!" cried "Uncle," with ajoyous laugh, having finished the dance. "Well done, niece! Now a fineyoung fellow must be found as husband for you. That's it- come on!"

　　"He's chosen already," said Nicholas smiling.

　　"Oh?" said "Uncle" in surprise, looking inquiringly at Natasha,who nodded her head with a happy smile.

　　"And such a one!" she said. But as soon as she had said it a newtrain of thoughts and feelings arose in her. "What did Nicholas' smilemean when he said 'chosen already'? Is he glad of it or not? It isas if he thought my Bolkonski would not approve of or understand ourgaiety. But he would understand it all. Where is he now?" she thought,and her face suddenly became serious. But this lasted only a second."Don't dare to think about it," she said to herself, and sat downagain smilingly beside "Uncle," begging him to play something more.

　　"Uncle" played another song and a valse; then after a pause hecleared his throat and sang his favorite hunting song:

　　As 'twas growing dark last night Fell the snow so soft and light..."Uncle" sang as peasants sing, with full and naive conviction thatthe whole meaning of a song lies in the words and that the tunecomes of itself, and that apart from the words there is no tune, whichexists only to give measure to the words. As a result of this theunconsidered tune, like the song of a bird, was extraordinarilygood. Natasha was in ecstasies over "Uncle's" singing. She resolved togive up learning the harp and to play only the guitar. She asked"Uncle" for his guitar and at once found the chords of the song.

　　After nine o'clock two traps and three mounted men, who had beensent to look for them, arrived to fetch Natasha and Petya. The countand countess did not know where they were and were very anxious,said one of the men.

　　Petya was carried out like a log and laid in the larger of the twotraps. Natasha and Nicholas got into the other. "Uncle" wrappedNatasha up warmly and took leave of her with quite a new tenderness.He accompanied them on foot as far as the bridge that could not becrossed, so that they had to go round by the ford, and he senthuntsmen to ride in front with lanterns.

　　"Good-by, dear niece," his voice called out of the darkness- not thevoice Natasha had known previously, but the one that had sung As 'twasgrowing dark last night.

　　In the village through which they passed there were red lights and acheerful smell of smoke.

　　"What a darling Uncle is!" said Natasha, when they had come out ontothe highroad.

　　"Yes," returned Nicholas. "You're not cold?"

　　"No. I'm quite, quite all right. I feel so comfortable!" answeredNatasha, almost perplexed by her feelings. They remained silent a longwhile. The night was dark and damp. They could not see the horses, butonly heard them splashing through the unseen mud.

　　What was passing in that receptive childlike soul that so eagerlycaught and assimilated all the diverse impressions of life? How didthey all find place in her? But she was very happy. As they werenearing home she suddenly struck up the air of As 'twas growing darklast night- the tune of which she had all the way been trying to getand had at last caught.

　　"Got it?" said Nicholas.

　　"What were you thinking about just now, Nicholas?" inquired Natasha.

　　They were fond of asking one another that question.

　　"I?" said Nicholas, trying to remember. "Well, you see, first Ithought that Rugay, the red hound, was like Uncle, and that if he werea man he would always keep Uncle near him, if not for his riding, thenfor his manner. What a good fellow Uncle is! Don't you think so?...Well, and you?"

　　"I? Wait a bit, wait.... Yes, first I thought that we are drivingalong and imagining that we are going home, but that heaven knowswhere we are really going in the darkness, and that we shall arriveand suddenly find that we are not in Otradnoe, but in Fairyland. Andthen I thought... No, nothing else."

　　"I know, I expect you thought of him," said Nicholas, smiling asNatasha knew by the sound of his voice.

　　"No," said Natasha, though she had in reality been thinking aboutPrince Andrew at the same time as of the rest, and of how he wouldhave liked "Uncle." "And then I was saying to myself all the way, 'Howwell Anisya carried herself, how well!'" And Nicholas heard herspontaneous, happy, ringing laughter. "And do you know," shesuddenly said, "I know that I shall never again be as happy andtranquil as I am now."

　　"Rubbish, nonsense, humbug!" exclaimed Nicholas, and he thought:"How charming this Natasha of mine is! I have no other friend like herand never shall have. Why should she marry? We might always driveabout together!

　　"What a darling this Nicholas of mine is!" thought Natasha.

　　"Ah, there are still lights in the drawingroom!" she said,pointing to the windows of the house that gleamed invitingly in themoist velvety darkness of the night.