‘Well, then, you are satisfied with your day, and so am I. First of all I solved two chess problems — one a very good one, beginning with a pawn move. I’ll show it you. And afterwards I thought over our yesterday’s conversation.’
‘What about yesterday’s conversation?’ asked Levin, who had finished dinner and sat blissfully blinking and puffing, quite unable to remember what yesterday’s conversation had been about.
‘I think you are partly right. Our disagreement lies in the fact that you consider personal interests the motive power, while I think every man with a certain degree of education ought to be interested in the general welfare. You may be right in thinking that activity backed by material interest is best; but your nature is altogether primesautière [impulsive],’ as the French say: you want passionate, energetic activity, or nothing at all.’
Levin listened to his brother but understood absolutely nothing and did not wish to understand. He was only afraid his brother might put some question which would elicit the fact that he was not paying attention.
‘That’s what it is, old chap,’ said Koznyshev, patting Constantine’s shoulder.
‘Yes, of course! But what matter? I don’t insist on my view,’ replied Levin, with a guilty, childlike smile. ‘What can I have been disputing about?’ he thought. ‘Of course I was right, and he was right too, so it’s all right! … But I must go round to the office.’
He rose, stretching himself and smiling. Koznyshev smiled too.
‘Shall we go for a stroll together?’ he said, not wishing to part from his brother, who seemed to be exhaling freshness and vigour. ‘Come along! We could call in at the office if you want to.’
‘Oh, dear me!’ exclaimed Levin, so loudly that he scared Koznyshev.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘How’s Agatha Mikhaylovna’s arm?’ asked Levin, slapping his head. ‘I had forgotten all about it.’
‘Much better.’
‘Well, I’ll run and see her, all the same. You won’t have got your hat before I am back.’
And his heels clattered swiftly down the stairs, making a noise like a rattle.
Chapter 7
OBLONSKY had gone to Petersburg to fulfil a very necessary duty — which to officials seems most natural and familiar, though to laymen it is incomprehensible — that of reminding the Ministry of his existence, without the performance of which rite continuance in Government service is impossible. Having taken away with him all the money there was in the house, he contrived while attending to duty to pass his time very pleasantly, going to races and visiting at country houses. Meanwhile, to curtail expenses, Dolly and her children moved to the country. She went to Ergushovo, the estate which had formed part of her dowry, about thirty-five miles distant from Levin’s Pokrovsk, and the very place where in spring the forest had been sold.
The old mansion on the estate had been pulled down long ago, but there was a smaller house which had been enlarged and decorated by the Prince. Some twenty years before, when Dolly was still a child, that house had seemed roomy and convenient, though in common with all houses of the kind it stood away from the drive and had not a south aspect. It was old and beginning to decay. In the spring, when Oblonsky went there to sell the forest, Dolly had asked him to look over the house and have all necessary repairs done. Like all guilty husbands Oblonsky was very anxious about his wife’s comfort, so he looked over the house himself and gave orders to have everything done that seemed to him necessary. According to him it was necessary to re-upholster the furniture with new cretonne, to put up curtains, make the garden tidy, plant flowers and build a bridge by the lake; but he forgot many other things which were essential, and thus caused Dolly a great deal of trouble.
Try as he would to be a considerate husband and father, Oblonsky never could remember that he had a wife and children. He had the tastes of a bachelor and understood no others. When he returned to Moscow he informed his wife that all was being prepared, that the house would look like a new toy, and advised her to move thither. Her departure for the country suited Oblonsky in every way: it was good for the children, expenses would be cut down, and he would be freer. His wife, on the other hand, considered going to the country for the summer to be absolutely necessary for the children, especially for the little girl who had not recovered her health after the scarlet fever; and also in order to escape the humiliation of small debts for fuel, fish, boots, and so on, which tormented her. Besides this she liked the idea of going to her house in the country because she intended to get her sister Kitty, who was to return from abroad at midsummer and who had been ordered bathing, to join her there. Kitty wrote from her watering-place that nothing seemed so attractive as spending the summer with Dolly at Ergushovo, which was full of childhood memories for both of them.
The first days in the country were very trying for Dolly. In her girlhood she had lived there and it had left an impression on her mind as a place of refuge from all the unpleasantness of town; life there, though very plain (Dolly was reconciled to that), was cheap and comfortable; everything was cheap there and easy to get, and it would do the children good. But when she came there as mistress of the house she saw that things were quite different from what she had expected.
The day after her arrival it poured with rain and in the night the rain came through into the passage and nursery, so that the children’s beds had to be carried into the drawing-room. There was no scullery-maid. Of the nine cows some, according to the dairymaids, were about to calve, others had calved for the first time, some were too old, and the rest were difficult to milk, so there was no butter and scarcely enough milk even for the children. There were no eggs. It was impossible to get a chicken, and they were obliged to boil and roast tough old purple-coloured roosters. No peasant women could be got to scrub the floors: they were all out planting potatoes. It was impossible to go for a drive because one of the horses was restive and would not run in harness. There was no place for bathing, the river banks being all trampled over by the cattle and exposed to the road; it was not even possible to walk in the garden because the fence was broken and the peasants’ cattle could get in, and the herd included a terrible bull that was given to bellowing and would therefore probably toss. There was nowhere to hang dresses, because what few wardrobes there were would not shut, or else opened of themselves when anyone passed by. There was no mangle in the laundry, not even an ironing board, and no large pots or pans.
Dolly, meeting with these difficulties, so terrible from her point of view, instead of finding peace and rest, was at first driven to despair. She bustled about and did her utmost; but feeling the hopelessness of her position, had to fight with the tears that rose every moment to her eyes.
The steward, formerly a non-commissioned officer, to whom Oblonsky had taken a fancy and whom he had promoted from hall porter to steward because of the man’s handsome and respectful appearance, took no interest in his mistress’s troubles, only saying in a deferential tone, ‘Quite impossible, the people are so abominable’, and did nothing to help her.
The position seemed irremediable; but just as in other households, there was here in the Oblonskys’ house one inconspicuous yet most important and useful person: Matrena Filimonovna. She consoled her mistress, assuring her that everything would ‘shape itself’ (this phrase was her own, and Matthew had learnt it from her), and she went to work deliberately and without excitement.
She at once made friends with the steward’s wife, and on the very day of the removal drank tea with her and with the steward beneath the laburnums, discussing arrangements. A club was soon established beneath the laburnums, consisting of Matrena Filimonovna, the steward’s wife, the village elder, and the office clerk; and by means of this club the troubles began gradually