War And Peace: Epilogue 1 - CHAPTER VIII

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THE ONE THING that sometimes troubled Nikolay in his government of his serfs

was his hasty temper and his old habit, acquired in the hussars, of making free

use of his fists. At first he saw nothing blameworthy in this, but in the second

year of his married life his views on that form of correction underwent a sudden

change.

One summer day he had sent for the village elder who had taken control at

Bogutcharovo on the death of Dron. The man was accused of various acts of fraud

and neglect. Nikolay went out to the steps to see him, and at the first answers

the village elder made, shouts and blows were heard in the hall. On going back

indoors to lunch, Nikolay went up to his wife, who was sitting with her head

bent low over her embroidery frame, and began telling her, as he always did,

everything that had interested him during the morning, and among other things

about the Bogutcharovo elder. Countess Marya, turning red and pale and setting

her lips, sat in the same pose, making no reply to her husband.

“The insolent rascal,” he said, getting hot at the mere recollection.

“Well, he should have told me he was drunk, he did not see … Why, what is it,

Marie?” he asked all at once.

Countess Marya raised her head, tried to say something, but hurriedly looked

down again, trying to control her lips.

“What is it? What is wrong, my darling? …” His plain wife always looked her

best when she was in tears. She never wept for pain or anger, but always from

sadness and pity. And when she wept her luminous eyes gained an indescribable

charm.

As soon as Nikolay took her by the hand, she was unable to restrain herself,

and burst into tears.

“Nikolay, I saw … he was in fault, but you, why did you! Nikolay!” and she

hid her face in her hands.

Nikolay did not speak; he flushed crimson, and walking away from her, began

pacing up and down in silence. He knew what she was crying about, but he could

not all at once agree with her in his heart that what he had been used to from

childhood, what he looked upon as a matter of course, was wrong. “It's

sentimental nonsense, old wives' cackle—or is she right?” he said to himself.

Unable to decide that question, he glanced once more at her suffering and loving

face, and all at once he felt that she was right, and that he had known himself

to be in fault a long time before.

“Marie,” he said, softly, going up to her: “it shall never happen again; I

give you my word. Never,” he repeated in a shaking voice like a boy begging for

forgiveness.

The tears flowed faster from his wife's eyes. She took his hand and kissed

it.

“Nikolay, when did you break your cameo?” she said to change the subject,

as she scrutinised the finger on which he wore a ring with a cameo of

Laocoon.

“To-day; it was all the same thing. O Marie, don't remind me of it!” He

flushed again. “I give you my word of honour that it shall never happen again.

And let this be a reminder to me for ever,” he said, pointing to the broken

ring.

From that time forward, whenever in interviews with his village elders and

foremen he felt the blood rush to his face and his fists began to clench,

Nikolay turned the ring round on his finger and dropped his eyes before the man

who angered him. Twice a year, however, he would forget himself, and then, going

to his wife, he confessed, and again promised that this would really be the last

time.

“Marie, you must despise me,” he said to her. “I deserve it.”

“You must run away, make haste and run away if you feel yourself unable to

control yourself,” his wife said mournfully, trying to comfort him.

In the society of the nobility of the province Nikolay was respected but not

liked. The local politics of the nobility did not interest him. And in

consequence he was looked upon by some people as proud and by others as a fool.

In summer his whole time from the spring sowing to the harvest was spent in

looking after the land. In the autumn he gave himself up with the same

business-like seriousness to hunting, going out for a month or two at a time

with his huntsmen, dogs, and horses on hunting expeditions. In the winter he

visited their other properties and spent his time in reading, chiefly historical

books, on which he spent a certain sum regularly every year. He was forming for

himself, as he used to say, a serious library, and he made it a principle to

read through every book he bought. He would sit over his book in his study with

an important air; and what he had at first undertaken as a duty became an

habitual pursuit, which afforded him a special sort of gratification in the

feeling that he was engaged in serious study. Except when he went on business to

visit their other estates, he spent the winter at home with his family, entering

into all the petty cares and interests of the mother and children. With his wife

he got on better and better, every day discovering fresh spiritual treasures in

her.

From the time of Nikolay's marriage Sonya had lived in his house. Before

their marriage, Nikolay had told his wife all that had passed between him and

Sonya, blaming himself and praising her conduct. He begged Princess Marya to be

kind and affectionate to his cousin. His wife was fully sensible of the wrong

her husband had done his cousin; she felt herself too guilty toward Sonya; she

fancied her wealth had influenced Nikolay in his choice, could find no fault in

Sonya, and wished to love her. But she could not like her, and often found evil

feelings in her soul in regard to her, which she could not overcome.

One day she was talking with her friend Natasha of Sonya and her own

injustice towards her.

“Do you know what,” said Natasha; “you have read the Gospel a great deal;

there is a passage there that applies exactly to Sonya.”

“What is it?” Countess Marya asked in surprise.

“ ‘To him that hath shall be given, and to him that hath not shall be taken

even that that he hath,' do you remember? She is the one that hath not; why, I

don't know; perhaps she has no egoism. I don't know; but from her is taken away,

and everything has been taken away. I am sometimes awfully sorry for her. I used

in old days to want Nikolay to marry her but I always had a sort of presentiment

that it would not happen. She is a barren flower, you know, like what one

finds among the strawberry flowers. Sometimes I am sorry for her, and sometimes

I think she does not feel it as we should have felt it.”

And although Countess Marya argued with Natasha that those words of the

Gospel must not be taken in that sense, looking at Sonya, she agreed with the

explanation given by Natasha. It did seem really as though Sonya did not feel

her position irksome, and was quite reconciled to her fate as a barren

flower. She seemed to be fond not so much of people as of the whole family.

Like a cat, she had attached herself not to persons but to the house. She waited

on the old countess, petted and spoiled the children, was always ready to

perform small services, which she seemed particularly clever at; but all she did

was unconsciously taken for granted, without much gratitude.…

The Bleak Hills house had been built up again, but not on the same scale as

under the old prince.

The buildings, begun in days of straitened means, were more than simple. The

immense mansion on the old stone foundation was of wood, plastered only on the

inside. The great rambling house, with its unstained plank floors, was furnished

with the simplest rough sofas and chairs and tables made of their own

birch-trees by the labor of their serf carpenters. The house was very roomy,

with quarters for the house-serfs and accommodation for visitors.

The relations of the Rostovs and the Bolkonskys would sometimes come on

visits to Bleak Hills with their families, sixteen horses and dozens of

servants, and stay for months. And four times a year—on the namedays and

birthdays of the master and mistress—as many as a hundred visitors would be put

up for a day or two. The rest of the year the regular life of the household went

on in unbroken routine, with its round of duties, and of teas, breakfasts,

dinners, and suppers, all provided out of home-grown produce.

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1. Ebooks list page : 85
2. War And Peace: Epilogue 2 - CHAPTER VIII
3. War And Peace: Epilogue 2 - CHAPTER IX
4. War And Peace: Epilogue 2 - CHAPTER VII
5. War And Peace: Epilogue 1 - CHAPTER X
6. War And Peace: Epilogue 2 - CHAPTER IV
7. War And Peace: Epilogue 1 - CHAPTER XI
8. War And Peace: Epilogue 2 - CHAPTER II
9. War And Peace: Epilogue 2 - CHAPTER I
10. War And Peace: Epilogue 2 - CHAPTER XI
11. War And Peace: Epilogue 2 - CHAPTER X
12. War And Peace: Epilogue 2 - CHAPTER XII
13. War And Peace: Epilogue 1 - CHAPTER IX
14. War And Peace: Epilogue 1 - CHAPTER II
15. War And Peace: Epilogue 1 - CHAPTER III
16. War And Peace: Epilogue 1 - CHAPTER XVI