A Russian Proprietor, and Other Stories. Лев Николаевич Толстой

asked Nekhliudof in some constraint.

      "You see he's a young peasant still. He demands so much work of me. To-day I am alive, to-morrow I may die. How can he live without a wife? He won't be any good to you at all. Help us to find some one for him, good father."

      "That is, you want to get a wife for him? What? What an idea!"

      "God's will be done! You are in the place of parents to us."

      And after making a sign to her son, she and the man threw themselves on the floor at the prince's feet.

      "Why do you stoop to the ground?" asked Nekhliudof peevishly, taking her by the shoulder. "You know I don't like this sort of thing. Marry your son, of course, if you have a girl in view. I should be very glad if you had a daughter-in-law to help you."

      The old woman got up, and began to rub her dry eyes with her sleeves. Davidka followed her example, and, rubbing his eyes with his weak fist, with the same patiently-submissive expression, continued to stand, and listen to what Arína said.

      "Plenty of brides, certainly. Here's Vasiutka Mikheïkin's daughter, and a right good girl she is; but the girl would not come to us without your consent."

      "Isn't she willing?"

      "No, benefactor, she isn't."

      "Well, what's to be done? I can't compel her. Select some one else. If you can't find one at home, go to another village. I will pay for her, only she must come of her own free will. It is impossible to marry her by force. There's no law allows that; that would be a great sin."

      "E-e-kh! benefactor! Is it possible that any one would come to us of her own accord, seeing our way of life, our wretchedness? Not even the wife of a soldier would like to undergo such want. What peasant would let us have his daughter?39 It is not to be expected. You see we're in the very depths of poverty. They will say, 'Since you starved one to death, it will be the same with my daughter.' Who is to give her?" she added, shaking her head dubiously. "Give us your advice, excellency."

      "Well, what can I do?"

      "Think of some one for us, kind sir," repeated Arína urgently. "What are we to do?"

      "How can I think of any one? I can't do any thing at all for you as things are."

      "Who will help us if you do not?" said Arína, drooping her head, and spreading her palms with an expression of melancholy discontent.

      "Here you ask for grain, and so I will give orders for some to be delivered to you," said the prince after a short silence, during which Arína sighed, and Davidka imitated her. "But I cannot do any thing more."

      Nekhliudof went into the entry. Mother and son with low bows followed the prince.

      XII

      "O-okh! alas for my wretchedness!" exclaimed Arína, sighing deeply.

      She paused, and looked angrily at her son. Davidka immediately turned around, and, clumsily lifting his stout leg incased in a huge dirty boot over the threshold, took refuge in the opposite door.

      "What shall I do with him, father?" continued Arína, turning to the prince. "You yourself see what he is. He is not a bad man;40 doesn't get drunk, and is peaceable; wouldn't hurt a little child. It's a sin to say hard things of him. There's nothing bad about him, and God knows what has taken place in him to make him so bad to himself. You see he himself does not like it. Would you believe it, father,41 my heart bleeds when I look at him, and see what suffering he undergoes. You see, whatever he is, he is my son. I pity him. Oh, how I pity him!.. You see, it isn't as though he had done any thing against me or his father or the authorities. But, no: he's a bashful man, almost like a child. How can he bear to be a widower? Help us out, benefactor," she said once more, evidently desirous of removing the unfavorable impression which her bitter words might have left upon the prince. "Father, your excellency, I" – She went on to say in a confidential whisper, "My wit does not go far enough to explain him. It seems as though bad men had spoiled him."

      She paused for a moment.

      "If we could find the men, we might cure him."

      "What nonsense you talk, Arína! How can he be spoiled?"

      "My father, they spoil him so that they make him a no-man forever! Many bad people in the world! Out of ill-will they take a handful of earth from out of one's path, or something of that sort; and one is made a no-man forever after. Isn't that a sin? I think to myself, Might I not go to the old man Danduk, who lives at Vorobyevka? He knows all sorts of words; and he knows herbs, and he can make charms; and he finds water with a cross. Wouldn't he help me?" said the woman. "Maybe he will cure him."

      "What abjectness and superstition!" thought the young prince, shaking his head gloomily, and walking back with long strides through the village.

      "What's to be done with him? To leave him in this situation is impossible, both for myself and for the others and for him, – impossible," he said to himself, counting off on his fingers these reasons.

      "I cannot bear to see him in this plight; but how extricate him? He renders nugatory all my best plans for the management of the estate. If such peasants are allowed, none of my dreams will ever be realized," he went on, experiencing a feeling of despite and anger against the peasant in consequence of the ruin of his plans. "To send him to Siberia, as Yakof suggests, against his will, would that be good for him? or to make him a soldier? That is best. At least I should be quit of him, and I could replace him by a decent peasant."

      Such was his decision.

      He thought about this with satisfaction; but at the same time something obscurely told him that he was thinking with only one side of his mind, and not wholly right.

      He paused.

      "I will think about it some more," he said to himself. "To send him off as a soldier – why? He is a good man, better than many; and I know… Shall I free him?" he asked himself, putting the question from a different side of his mind. "It wouldn't be fair. Yes, it's impossible."

      But suddenly a thought occurred to him that greatly pleased him. He smiled with the expression of a man who has decided a difficult question.

      "I will take him to the house," he said to himself. "I will look after him myself; and by means of kindness and advice, and selecting his employment, I will teach him to work, and reform him."

      XIII

      "That's the way I'll do," said Nekhliudof to himself with a pleasant self-consciousness; and then, recollecting that he had still to go to the rich peasant Dutlof, he directed his steps toward a lofty and ample establishment, with two chimneys, standing in the midst of the village.

      As he passed a neighboring hut on his way thither, he stopped to speak with a tall, disorderly-looking peasant-woman of forty summers, who came to meet him.

      "A pleasant holiday, father,"42 she said, with some show of assurance, stopping at a little distance from him with a pleased smile and a low obeisance.

      "Good-morning, my nurse. How are you? I was just going to see your neighbor."

      "Pretty well, your excellency, my father. It's a good idea. But won't you come in? I beg you to. My old man would be very pleased."

      "Well, I'll come; and we'll have a little talk with you, nurse. Is this your house?"

      "It is, sir."[42]

      And the nurse led the way into the hut. Nekhliudof followed her into the entry, and sat down on a tub, and began to smoke a cigarette.

      "It's hot inside. It's better to sit down here, and have our talk," he said in reply to the woman's invitation to go into the hut.

      The nurse was a well-preserved and handsome woman. In the features of her countenance, and especially in her big black eyes, there was a strong resemblance to the prince himself. She folded her hands under her apron, and looking fearlessly at

39

dyevka, marriageable girl.

40

muzhík.

41

bátiushka.

42

bátiushka.