Resurrection, Leo Nikoleyevich Tolstoy [books to read this summer .txt] 📗

to go out. But let us go up

again,” she said and stopped hesitatingly. Then she looked at the

clock. “No, I can’t. I am going to Kamenskaya’s to attend a mass

for the dead. She is terribly afflicted.”

 

“Who is this Kamenskaya?”

 

“Have you not heard? Her son was killed in a duel. He fought

Posen. He was the only son. Terrible I The mother is very much

afflicted.”

 

“Yes. I have heard of it.”

 

“No, I had better go, and you must come again, to-night or

tomorrow,” she said, and went to the door with quick, light

steps.

 

“I cannot come to-night,” he said, going out after her; “but I

have a request to make you,” and he looked at the pair of bays

that were drawing up to the front door.

 

“What is this?”

 

“This is a letter from aunt to you,” said Nekhludoff, handing her

a narrow envelope, with a large crest. “You’ll find all about it

in there.”

 

“I know Countess Katerina Ivanovna thinks I have some influence

with my husband in business matters. She is mistaken. I can do

nothing and do not like to interfere. But, of course, for you I

am willing to be false to my principle. What is this business

about?” she said, searching in vain for her pocket with her

little black gloved hand.

 

“There is a girl imprisoned in the fortress, and she is ill and

innocent.”

 

“What is her name?”

 

“Lydia Shoustova. It’s in the note.”

 

“All right; I’ll see what I can do,” she said, and lightly jumped

into her little, softly upholstered, open carriage, its

brightly-varnished splashguards glistening in the sunshine, and

opened her parasol. The footman got on the box and gave the

coachman a sign. The carriage moved, but at that moment she

touched the coachman with her parasol and the slim-legged

beauties, the bay mares, stopped, bending their beautiful necks

and stepping from foot to foot.

 

“But you must come, only, please, without interested motives,”

and she looked at him with a smile, the force of which she well

knew, and, as if the performance over and she were drawing the

curtain, she dropped the veil over her face again. “All right,”

and she again touched the coachman.

 

Nekhludoff raised his hat, and the well-bred bays, slightly

snorting, set off, their shoes clattering on the pavement, and

the carriage rolled quickly and smoothly on its new rubber tyres,

giving a jump only now and then over some unevenness of the road.

 

CHAPTER XVI.

 

AN UP-TO-DATE SENATOR.

 

When Nekhludoff remembered the smiles that had passed between him

and Mariette, he shook his head.

 

“You have hardly time to turn round before you are again drawn

into this life,” he thought, feeling that discord and those

doubts which the necessity to curry favour from people he did not

esteem caused.

 

After considering where to go first, so as not to have to retrace

his steps, Nekhludoff set off for the Senate. There he was shown

into the office where he found a great many very polite and very

clean officials in the midst of a magnificent apartment.

Maslova’s petition was received and handed on to that Wolf, to

whom Nekhludoff had a letter from his uncle, to be examined and

reported on.

 

“There will be a meeting of the Senate this week,” the official

said to Nekhludoff, “but Maslova’s case will hardly come before

that meeting.”

 

“It might come before the meeting on Wednesday, by special

request,” one of the officials remarked.

 

During the time Nekhludoff waited in the office, while some

information was being taken, he heard that the conversation in

the Senate was all about the duel, and he heard a detailed

account of how a young man, Kaminski, had been killed. It was

here he first heard all the facts of the case which was exciting

the interest of all Petersburg. The story was this: Some officers

were eating oysters and, as usual, drinking very much, when one

of them said something ill-natured about the regiment to which

Kaminski belonged, and Kaminski called him a liar. The other hit

Kaminski. The next day they fought. Kaminski was wounded in the

stomach and died two hours later. The murderer and the seconds

were arrested, but it was said that though they were arrested and

in the guardhouse they would be set free in a fortnight.

 

From the Senate Nekhludoff drove to see an influential member of

the petition Committee, Baron Vorobioff, who lived in a splendid

house belonging to the Crown. The doorkeeper told Nekhludoff in a

severe tone that the Baron could not be seen except on his

reception days; that he was with His Majesty the Emperor to-day,

and the next day he would again have to deliver a report.

Nekhludoff left his uncle’s letter with the doorkeeper and went

on to see the Senator Wolf. Wolf had just had his lunch, and was

as usual helping digestion by smoking a cigar and pacing up and

down the room, when Nekhludoff came in. Vladimir Vasilievitch

Wolf was certainly un homme tres comme il faut, and prized this

quality very highly, and from that elevation he looked down at

everybody else. He could not but esteem this quality of his very

highly, because it was thanks to it alone that he had made a

brilliant career, the very career he desired, i.e., by marriage

he obtained a fortune which brought him in 18,000 roubles a year,

and by his own exertions the post of a senator. He considered

himself not only un homme tres comme il faut, but also a man of

knightly honour. By honour he understood not accepting secret

bribes from private persons. But he did not consider it dishonest

to beg money for payment of fares and all sorts of travelling

expenses from the Crown, and to do anything the Government might

require of him in return. To ruin hundreds of innocent people, to

cause them to be imprisoned, to be exiled because of their love

for their people and the religion of their fathers, as he had

done in one of the governments of Poland when he was governor

there. He did not consider it dishonourable, but even thought it

a noble, manly and patriotic action. Nor did he consider it

dishonest to rob his wife and sister-in-law, as he had done, but

thought it a wise way of arranging his family life. His family

consisted of his commonplace wife, his sister-in-law, whose

fortune he had appropriated by selling her estate and putting the

money to his account, and his meek, frightened, plain daughter,

who lived a lonely, weary life, from which she had lately begun

to look for relaxation in evangelicism, attending meetings at

Aline’s, and the Countess Katerina Ivanovna. Wolf’s son, who had

grown a beard at the age of 15, and had at that age begun to

drink and lead a depraved life, which he continued to do till the

age of 20, when he was turned out by his father because he never

finished his studies, moved in a low set and made debts which

committed the father. The father had once paid a debt of 250

roubles for his son, then another of 600 roubles, but warned the

son that he did it for the last time, and that if the son did not

reform he would be turned out of the house and all further

intercourse between him and his family would he put a stop to.

The son did not reform, but made a debt of a thousand roubles,

and took the liberty of telling his father that life at home was

a torment anyhow. Then Wolf declared to his son that he might go

where he pleased—that he was no son of his any longer. Since

then Wolf pretended he had no son, and no one at home dared speak

to him about his son, and Vladimir Vasilievitch Wolf was firmly

convinced that he had arranged his family life in the best way.

Wolf stopped pacing up and down his study, and greeted Nekhludoff

with a friendly though slightly ironical smile. This was his way

of showing how comme il faut he was, and how superior to the

majority of men. He read the note which Nekhludoff handed to him.

 

“Please take a seat, and excuse me if I continue to walk up and

down, with your permission,” he said, putting his hands into his

coat pockets, and began again to walk with light, soft steps

across his large, quietly and stylishly furnished study. “Very

pleased to make your acquaintance and of course very glad to do

anything that Count Ivan Michaelovitch wishes,” he said, blowing

the fragrant blue smoke out of his mouth and removing his cigar

carefully so as not to drop the ash.

 

“I should only like to ask that the case might come on soon, so

that if the prisoner has to go to Siberia she might set off

early,” said Nekhludoff.

 

“Yes, yes, with one of the first steamers from Nijni. I know,”

said Wolf, with his patronising smile, always knowing in advance

whatever one wanted to tell him.

 

“What is the prisoner’s name?”

 

“Maslova.”

 

Wolf went up to the table and looked at a paper that lay on a

piece of cardboard among other business papers.

 

“Yes, yes. Maslova. All right, I will ask the others. We shall

hear the case on Wednesday.”

 

“Then may I telegraph to the advocate?”

 

“The advocate! What’s that for? But if you like, why not?”

 

“The causes for appeal may be insufficient,” said Nekhludoff,

“but I think the case will show that the sentence was passed

owing to a misunderstanding.”

 

“Yes, yes; it may be so, but the Senate cannot decide the case on

its merits,” said Wolf, looking seriously at the ash of his

cigar. “The Senate only considers the exactness of the

application of the laws and their right interpretation.”

 

“But this seems to me to be an exceptional case.”

 

“I know, I know! All cases are exceptional. We shall do our duty.

That’s all.” The ash was still holding on, but had began

breaking, and was in danger of falling.

 

“Do you often come to Petersburg?” said Wolf, holding his cigar

so that the ash should not fall. But the ash began to shake, and

Wolf carefully carried it to the ashpan, into which it fell.

 

“What a terrible thing this is with regard to Kaminski,” he said.

“A splendid young man. The only son. Especially the mother’s

position,” he went on, repeating almost word for word what every

one in Petersburg was at that time saying about Kaminski. Wolf

spoke a little about the Countess Katerina Ivanovna and her

enthusiasm for the new religious teaching, which he neither

approved nor disapproved of, but which was evidently needless to

him who was so comme il faut, and then rang the bell.

 

Nekhludoff bowed.

 

“If it is convenient, come and dine on Wednesday, and I will give

you a decisive answer,” said Wolf, extending his hand.

 

It was late, and Nekhludoff returned to his aunt’s.

 

CHAPTER XVII.

 

COUNTESS KATERINA IVANOVNA’S DINNER PARTY.

 

Countess Katerina Ivanovna’s dinner hour was half-past seven, and

the dinner was served in a new manner that Nekhludoff had not yet

seen anywhere. After they had placed the dishes on the table the

waiters left the room and the diners helped themselves. The men

would not let the ladies take the trouble of moving, and, as

befitted the stronger sex, they manfully took on themselves the

burden of putting the food on the ladies’ plates and of filling

their glasses. When one course was finished, the