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different branches; it was the serf who especially attracted his

attention。 The peasant seemed to him not merely a tool; but also a

judge of farming and an end in himself。 At first he watched the serfs;

trying to understand their aims and what they considered good and bad;

and only pretended to direct them and give orders while in reality

learning from them their methods; their manner of speech; and their

judgment of what was good and bad。 Only when he had understood the

peasants' tastes and aspirations; had learned to talk their

language; to grasp the hidden meaning of their words; and felt akin to

them did he begin boldly to manage his serfs; that is; to perform

toward them the duties demanded of him。 And Nicholas' management

produced very brilliant results。

  Guided by some gift of insight; on taking up the management of the

estates he at once unerringly appointed as bailiff; village elder; and

delegate; the very men the serfs would themselves have chosen had they

had the right to choose; and these posts never changed hands。 Before

analyzing the properties of manure; before entering into the debit and

credit (as he ironically called it); he found out how many cattle

the peasants had and increased the number by all possible means。 He

kept the peasant families together in the largest groups possible; not

allowing the family groups to divide into separate households。 He

was hard alike on the lazy; the depraved; and the weak; and tried to

get them expelled from the commune。

  He was as careful of the sowing and reaping of the peasants' hay and

corn as of his own; and few landowners had their crops sown and

harvested so early and so well; or got so good a return; as did

Nicholas。

  He disliked having anything to do with the domestic serfs… the

〃drones〃 as he called them… and everyone said he spoiled them by his

laxity。 When a decision had to be taken regarding a domestic serf;

especially if one had to be punished; he always felt undecided and

consulted everybody in the house; but when it was possible to have a

domestic serf conscripted instead of a land worker he did so without

the least hesitation。 He never felt any hesitation in dealing with the

peasants。 He knew that his every decision would be approved by them

all with very few exceptions。

  He did not allow himself either to be hard on or punish a man; or to

make things easy for or reward anyone; merely because he felt inclined

to do so。 He could not have said by what standard he judged what he

should or should not do; but the standard was quite firm and

definite in his own mind。

  Often; speaking with vexation of some failure or irregularity; he

would say: 〃What can one do with our Russian peasants?〃 and imagined

that he could not bear them。

  Yet he loved 〃our Russian peasants〃 and their way of life with his

whole soul; and for that very reason had understood and assimilated

the one way and manner of farming which produced good results。

  Countess Mary was jealous of this passion of her husband's and

regretted that she could not share it; but she could not understand

the joys and vexations he derived from that world; to her so remote

and alien。 She could not understand why he was so particularly

animated and happy when; after getting up at daybreak and spending the

whole morning in the fields or on the threshing floor; he returned

from the sowing or mowing or reaping to have tea with her。 She did not

understand why he spoke with such admiration and delight of the

farming of the thrifty and well…to…do peasant Matthew Ermishin; who

with his family had carted corn all night; or of the fact that his

(Nicholas') sheaves were already stacked before anyone else had his

harvest in。 She did not understand why he stepped out from the

window to the veranda and smiled under his mustache and winked so

joyfully; when warm steady rain began to fall on the dry and thirsty

shoots of the young oats; or why when the wind carried away a

threatening cloud during the hay harvest he would return from the

barn; flushed; sunburned; and perspiring; with a smell of wormwood and

gentian in his hair and; gleefully rubbing his hands; would say:

〃Well; one more day and my grain and the peasants' will all be under

cover。〃

  Still less did she understand why he; kindhearted and always ready

to anticipate her wishes; should become almost desperate when she

brought him a petition from some peasant men or women who had appealed

to her to be excused some work; why he; that kind Nicholas; should

obstinately refuse her; angrily asking her not to interfere in what

was not her business。 She felt he had a world apart; which he loved

passionately and which had laws she had not fathomed。

  Sometimes when; trying to understand him; she spoke of the good work

he was doing for his serfs; he would be vexed and reply: 〃Not in the

least; it never entered my head and I wouldn't do that for their good!

That's all poetry and old wives' talk… all that doing good to one's

neighbor! What I want is that our children should not have to go

begging。 I must put our affairs in order while I am alive; that's all。

And to do that; order and strictness are essential。。。。 That's all

about it!〃 said he; clenching his vigorous fist。 〃And fairness; of

course;〃 he added; 〃for if the peasant is naked and hungry and has

only one miserable horse; he can do no good either for himself or

for me。〃

  And all Nicholas did was fruitful… probably just because he

refused to allow himself to think that he was doing good to others for

virtue's sake。 His means increased rapidly; serfs from neighboring

estates came to beg him to buy them; and long after his death the

memory of his administration was devoutly preserved among the serfs。

〃He was a master。。。 the peasants' affairs first and then his own。 Of

course he was not to be trifled with either… in a word; he was a

real master!〃

EP1|CH8

  CHAPTER VIII



  One matter connected with his management sometimes worried Nicholas;

and that was his quick temper together with his old hussar habit of

making free use of his fists。 At first he saw nothing reprehensible in

this; but in the second year of his marriage his view of that form

of punishment suddenly changed。

  Once in summer he had sent for the village elder from Bogucharovo; a

man who had succeeded to the post when Dron died and who was accused

of dishonesty and various irregularities。 Nicholas went out into the

porch to question him; and immediately after the elder had given a few

replies the sound of cries and blows were heard。 On returning to lunch

Nicholas went up to his wife; who sat with her head bent low over

her embroidery frame; and as usual began to tell her what he had

been doing that morning。 Among other things he spoke of the

Bogucharovo elder。 Countess Mary turned red and then pale; but

continued to sit with head bowed and lips compressed and gave her

husband no reply。

  〃Such an insolent scoundrel!〃 he cried; growing hot again at the

mere recollection of him。 〃If he had told me he was drunk and did

not see。。。 But what is the matter with you; Mary?〃 he suddenly asked。

  Countess Mary raised her head and tried to speak; but hastily looked

down again and her lips puckered。

  〃Why; whatever is the matter; my dearest?〃

  The looks of the plain Countess Mary always improved when she was in

tears。 She never cried from pain or vexation; but always from sorrow

or pity; and when she wept her radiant eyes acquired an irresistible

charm。

  The moment Nicholas took her hand she could no longer restrain

herself and began to cry。

  〃Nicholas; I saw it。。。 he was to blame; but why do you。。。 Nicholas!〃

and she covered her face with her hands。

  Nicholas said nothing。 He flushed crimson; left her side; and

paced up and down the room。 He understood what she was weeping

about; but could not in his heart at once agree with her that what

he had regarded from childhood as quite an everyday event was wrong。

〃Is it just sentimentality; old wives' tales; or is she right?〃 he

asked himself。 Before he had solved that point he glanced again at her

face filled with love and pain; and he suddenly realized that she

was right and that he had long been sinning against himself。

  〃Mary;〃 he said softly; going up to her; 〃it will never happen

again; I give you my word。 Never;〃 he repeated in a trembling voice

like a boy asking for forgiveness。

  The tears flowed faster still from the countess' eyes。 She took

his hand and kissed it。

  〃Nicholas; when when did you break your cameo?〃 she asked to

change the subject; looking at his finger on which he wore a ring with

a cameo of Laocoon's head。

  〃Today… it was the same affair。 Oh; Mary; don't remind me of it!〃

and again he flushed。 〃I give you my word of honor it shan't occur

again; and let this always be a reminder to me;〃 and he pointed to the

broken ring。

  After that; when in discussions with his village elder

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