for a patience, trying to divert his mother’s attention to another topic.
The same conversation was repeated next day and the
day after, and the day after that.
After her visit to the Rostovs and her unexpectedly chilly
reception by Nicholas, Princess Mary confessed to herself
that she had been right in not wishing to be the first to call.
‘I expected nothing else,’ she told herself, calling her
pride to her aid. ‘I have nothing to do with him and I only
wanted to see the old lady, who was always kind to me and
to whom I am under many obligations.’
But she could not pacify herself with these reflections; a
feeling akin to remorse troubled her when she thought of
her visit. Though she had firmly resolved not to call on the
Rostovs again and to forget the whole matter, she felt herself
all the time in an awkward position. And when she asked
herself what distressed her, she had to admit that it was her
relation to Rostov. His cold, polite manner did not express
his feeling for her (she knew that) but it concealed something, and until she could discover what that something
was, she felt that she could not be at ease.
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One day in midwinter when sitting in the schoolroom
attending to her nephew’s lessons, she was informed that
Rostov had called. With a firm resolution not to betray herself and not show her agitation, she sent for Mademoiselle
Bourienne and went with her to the drawing room.
Her first glance at Nicholas’ face told her that he had only
come to fulfill the demands of politeness, and she firmly resolved to maintain the tone in which he addressed her.
They spoke of the countess’ health, of their mutual
friends, of the latest war news, and when the ten minutes
required by propriety had elapsed after which a visitor may
rise, Nicholas got up to say good-by.
With Mademoiselle Bourienne’s help the princess had
maintained the conversation very well, but at the very last
moment, just when he rose, she was so tired of talking of
what did not interest her, and her mind was so full of the
question why she alone was granted so little happiness in
life, that in a fit of absent-mindedness she sat still, her luminous eyes gazing fixedly before her, not noticing that he
had risen.
Nicholas glanced at her and, wishing to appear not to
notice her abstraction, made some remark to Mademoiselle
Bourienne and then again looked at the princess. She still
sat motionless with a look of suffering on her gentle face. He
suddenly felt sorry for her and was vaguely conscious that
he might be the cause of the sadness her face expressed. He
wished to help her and say something pleasant, but could
think of nothing to say.
‘Good-by, Princess!’ said he.
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She started, flushed, and sighed deeply.
‘Oh, I beg your pardon,’ she said as if waking up. ‘Are
you going already, Count? Well then, good-by! Oh, but the
cushion for the countess!’
‘Wait a moment, I’ll fetch it,’ said Mademoiselle Bourienne, and she left the room.
They both sat silent, with an occasional glance at one another.
‘Yes, Princess,’ said Nicholas at last with a sad smile, ‘it
doesn’t seem long ago since we first met at Bogucharovo,
but how much water has flowed since then! In what distress
we all seemed to be then, yet I would give much to bring
back that time… but there’s no bringing it back.’
Princess Mary gazed intently into his eyes with her own
luminous ones as he said this. She seemed to be trying to
fathom the hidden meaning of his words which would explain his feeling for her.
‘Yes, yes,’ said she, ‘but you have no reason to regret the
past, Count. As I understand your present life, I think you
will always recall it with satisfaction, because the self-sacrifice that fills it now..’
‘I cannot accept your praise,’ he interrupted her hurriedly. ‘On the contrary I continually reproach myself…. But this
is not at all an interesting or cheerful subject.’
His face again resumed its former stiff and cold expression. But the princess had caught a glimpse of the man
she had known and loved, and it was to him that she now
spoke.
‘I thought you would allow me to tell you this,’ she said.
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‘I had come so near to you… and to all your family that I
thought you would not consider my sympathy misplaced,
but I was mistaken,’ and suddenly her voice trembled. ‘I
don’t know why,’ she continued, recovering herself, ‘but you
used to be different, and..’
‘There are a thousand reasons why,’ laying special emphasis on the why. ‘Thank you, Princess,’ he added softly.
‘Sometimes it is hard.’
‘So that’s why! That’s why!’ a voice whispered in Princess
Mary’s soul. ‘No, it was not only that gay, kind, and frank
look, not only that handsome exterior, that I loved in him.
I divined his noble, resolute, self-sacrificing spirit too,’ she
said to herself. ‘Yes, he is poor now and I am rich…. Yes,
that’s the only reason…. Yes, were it not for that…’ And remembering his former tenderness, and looking now at his
kind, sorrowful face, she suddenly understood the cause of
his coldness.
‘But why, Count, why?’ she almost cried, unconsciously
moving closer to him. ‘Why? Tell me. You must tell me!’
He was silent.
‘I don’t understand your why, Count,’ she continued, ‘but
it’s hard for me… I confess it. For some reason you wish to
deprive me of our former friendship. And that hurts me.’
There were tears in her eyes and in her voice. ‘I have had so
little happiness in life that every loss is hard for me to bear….
Excuse me, good-by!’ and suddenly she began to cry and
was hurrying from the room.
‘Princess, for God’s sake!’ he exclaimed, trying to stop
her. ‘Princess!’
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She turned round. For a few seconds they gazed silently into one another’s eyesand what had seemed impossible
and remote suddenly became possible, inevitable, and very
near.
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Chapter VII
In the winter of 1813 Nicholas married Princess Mary
and moved to Bald Hills with his wife, his mother, and Sonya.
Within four years he had paid off all his remaining debts
without selling any of his wife’s property, and having received a small inheritance on the death of a cousin he paid
his debt to Pierre as well.
In another three years, by 1820, he had so managed his
affairs that he was able to buy a small estate adjoining Bald
Hills and was negotiating to buy back Otradnoethat being
his pet dream.
Having started farming from necessity, he soon grew so
devoted to it that it became his favorite and almost his sole
occupation. Nicholas was a plain farmer: he did not like
innovations, especially the English ones then coming into
vogue. He laughed at theoretical treatises on estate management, disliked factories, the raising of expensive products,
and the buying of expensive seed corn, and did not make a
hobby of any particular part of the work on his estate. He
always had before his mind’s eye the estate as a whole and
not any particular part of it. The chief thing in his eyes was
not the nitrogen in the soil, nor the oxygen in the air, nor
manures, nor special plows, but that most important agent
by which nitrogen, oxygen, manure, and plow were made
2161
effectivethe peasant laborer. When Nicholas first began
farming and began to understand its 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 peas2162
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ants’ 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
serfsthe ‘drones’ as he called themand 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
