This agony of embarrassment was due to the fact that the sister-in-law was sitting opposite to him, in a dress, specially put on, as he fancied, for his benefit, cut particularly open, in the shape of a trapeze, at her white bosom. This quadrangular opening, in spite of the bosom's being very white, or just because it was very white, deprived Levin of the full use of his faculties. He imagined, probably mistakenly, that this low-necked bodice had been made on his account, and felt that he had no right to look at it, and tried not to look at it; but he felt that he was to blame for the very fact of the low-necked bodice having been made. It seemed to Levin that he had imposed upon someone, that he ought to explain something, but that to explain it was impossible, and for that reason he was continually blushing, was ill at ease and awkward. His awkwardness infected the pretty sister-in-law too. But their hostess appeared not to observe this, and kept purposely drawing her into the conversation.
`You say,' she said, pursuing the subject that had been started, `that my husband cannot be interested in what's Russian. It's quite the contrary; he is in cheerful spirits abroad, but never in such as he is here. Here he feels in his proper place. He has so much to do, and he has the faculty of interesting himself in everything. Oh, you've not been to see our school, have you?'
`I've seen it.... The little house covered with ivy, isn't it?'
`Yes; that's Nastia's work,' she said, indicating her sister.
`You teach in it yourself?' asked Levin, trying to look above the open neck, but feeling that no matter where he looked in that direction he should see it.
`Yes; I used to teach in it myself, and do teach still, but we have a first-rate schoolmistress now. And we've started gymnastic exercises.'
`No, thank you, I won't have any more tea,' said Levin, and conscious of doing a rude thing, but incapable of continuing the conversation, he got up, blushing. `I hear a very interesting conversation,' he added, and walked to the other end of the table, where Sviiazhsky was sitting with the two gentlemen of the neighborhood. Sviiazhsky was sitting sideways, with one elbow on the table, and a cup in one hand, while with the other hand he gathered up his beard, held it to his nose and let it drop again, as though he were smelling it. His brilliant black eyes were looking directly at the excited country gentleman with gray mustaches, and apparently he derived amusement from his remarks. The gentleman was complaining of the peasants. It was evident to Levin that Sviiazhsky knew the answer to this gentleman's complaints, which would at once demolish his whole contention, but that in his position he could not give utterance to this answer, and listened, not without pleasure, to the landowner's comic talk.
The gentleman with the gray mustaches was obviously an inveterate adherent of serfdom and a devoted agriculturist, who had lived all his life in the country. Levin saw proofs of this in his dress, in his old-fashioned threadbare coat, obviously not his everyday attire, in his shrewd, deep-set eyes, in his coherent Russian, in the imperious tone that had become habitual from long use, and in the resolute gestures of his large, beautiful sunburned hands, with a single old wedding ring on his fourth finger.
[Next Chapter] [Table of Contents]
TOLSTOY: Anna Karenina Part 3, Chapter 27[Previous Chapter] [Table of Contents] Chapter 27 `If I'd only the heart to throw up what's been set going... such a lot of trouble wasted... I'd turn my back on the whole business, sell out, go off like Nikolai Ivanovich... to hear La Belle Hélène ,'
said the landowner, a pleasant smile lighting up his shrewd old face.
`But, you see, you don't throw it up,' said Nikolai Ivanovich Sviiazhsky, `so there must be something gained.'
`The only gain is that I live in my own house, neither bought nor hired. Besides, one keeps hoping the people will learn sense. Though, instead of that, believe it or not, there is such drunkenness, such immorality!...
They keep making partition of their bits of land; there isn't a horse or a cow. The peasant's dying of hunger, but just go and take him on as a laborer - he'll do his best to do you a mischief, and then bring you up before the justice of the peace.'
`But then, you make complaints to the justice too,' said Sviiazhsky.
`I lodge complaints? Not for anything in the world There's so much talk springs up that one is sorry ever to have complained. At the works, for instance, they pocketed the advance money and made off. What did the justice do? Why, acquitted them. Nothing keeps them in order but their own communal court and their village elder. He'll flog them in the good old style! But for that there'd be nothing for it but to give it all up and run away.'
Obviously the landowner was chaffing Sviiazhsky, who, far from resenting it, was apparently amused by it.
`But, you see, we manage our land without such extreme measures,'
said he, smiling: `Levin, and I, and this gentleman.'
He indicated the other landowner.
`Yes, the thing's done at Mikhail Petrovich's, but ask him how it's done. Do you call that a rational system?' said the landowner, obviously rather proud of the word `rational'.
`My system's very simple,' said Mikhail Petrovich, `thank God.
All my management rests on getting the money ready for the autumn taxes....
The peasants come to me, ``Father, master, help us!' Well, the peasants are all one's neighbors; one feels for them. So one advances them a third, but one says: ``Remember, lads, I have helped you, and you must help me when I need it - whether it's the sowing of the oats, or the hay cutting, or the harvest'; and well, one agrees, so much for each taxpayer - though there are dishonest ones among them too, it's true.'
Levin, who had long been familiar with these patriarchal methods, exchanged glances with Sviiazhsky and interrupted Mikhail Petrovich, turning again to the gentleman with the gray mustaches.
