"When didst thou arrive? Where have you stopped? How have you come,--in a carriage?" Such were the questions which Marya Ivanovna put, walking with them to the drawing-room and not hearing the answers, and looking with large eyes, now upon one, and now upon another. Madame Byeshev was surprised at this calm, even indifference, and did not approve of it.

They all smiled; the conversation died down, and Marya Ivanovna looked silently and seriously at her brother.

"How are you?" asked Peter Ivanovich, taking her hand, and smiling.

Peter Ivanovich said "you" to her, though she had said "thou." Marya Ivanovna once more looked at his gray beard, his bald head, his teeth, his wrinkles, his eyes, his sunburnt face, and recognized all that.

"Here is my Sonya."

But she did not look around.

"What a stup--" her voice faltered, and she took hold of his bald head with her large white hands. "What a stupid you are," she had intended to say, "not to have prepared me," but her shoulders and breast began to tremble, her old face twitched, and she burst out into sobs, pressing to her breast his bald head, and repeating: "What a stupid you are not to have prepared me!"

Peter Ivanovich no longer appeared as such a great man to himself, not so important as he had appeared on Chevalier's porch. His back was resting against a chair, but his head was in his sister's arms, his nose was pressed against her corset, his nose was tickled, his hair dishevelled, and there were tears in his eyes. But he felt happy.

When this outburst of joyous tears was over, Marya Ivanovna understood what had happened and believed it, and began to examine them all. But several times during the course of the day, whenever she recalled what he had been then, and what she had been, and what they were now, and whenever the past misfortunes, and past joys and loves, vividly rose in her imagination, she was again seized by emotion, and got up and repeated: "What a stupid you are, Pierre, what a stupid not to have prepared me!"

"Why did you not come straight to me? I should have found room for you,"

said Marya Ivanovna. "At least, stay to dinner. You will not feel lonesome, Sergyey,--a young, brave Sevastopol soldier is dining here to-day. Do you not know Nikolay Mikhaylovich's son? He is a writer,--has written something nice. I have not read it, but they praise it, and he is a dear fellow,--I shall send for him. Chikhaev, too, wanted to come.

He is a babbler,--I do not like him. Has he already called on you? Have you seen Nikita? That is all nonsense. What do you intend to do? How are you, how is your health, Natalya? What are you going to do with this young fellow, and with this beauty?"

But the conversation somehow did not flow.

Before dinner Natalya Nikolaevna went with the children to an old aunt; brother and sister were left alone, and he began to tell her of his plans.

"Sonya is a young lady, she has to be taken out; consequently, we are going to live in Moscow," said Marya Ivanovna.

"Never."

"Serezha has to serve."

"Never."

"You are still as crazy as ever."

But she was just as fond of the crazy man.

"First we must stay here, then go to the country, and show everything to the children."

"It is my rule not to interfere in family matters," said Marya Ivanovna, after calming down from her agitation, "and not to give advice. A young man has to serve, that I have always thought, and now more than ever. You do not know, Pierre, what these young men nowadays are. I know them all: there, Prince Dmitri's son is all ruined. Their own fault. I am not afraid of anybody, I am an old woman. It is not good." And she began to talk about the government. She was dissatisfied with it for the excessive liberty which was given to everything. "The one good thing they have done was to let you out. That is good."

Pierre began to defend it, but Marya Ivanovna was not Pakhtin: they could come to no terms. She grew excited.

"What business have you to defend it? You are just as senseless as ever, I see."

Peter Ivanovich grew silent, with a smile which showed that he did not surrender, but that he did not wish to quarrel with Marya Ivanovna.

"You are smiling. We know that. You do not wish to discuss with me, a woman," she, said, merrily and kindly, and casting a shrewd, intelligent glance at her brother, such as could not be expected from her old, large-featured face. "You could not convince me, my friend. I am ending my three score and ten. I have not been a fool all that time, and have seen a thing or two. I have read none of your books, and I never will.

There is only nonsense in them!"

"Well, how do you like my children? Serezha?" Peter Ivanovich said, with the same smile.

"Wait, wait!" his sister replied, with a threatening gesture. "Don't switch me off on your children! We shall have time to talk about them.

Here is what I wanted to tell you. You are a senseless man, as senseless as ever, I see it in your eye. Now they are going to carry you in their arms. Such is the fashion. You are all in vogue now. Yes, yes, I see by your eyes that you are as senseless as ever," she added, in response to his smile. "Keep away, I implore you in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, from those modern liberals. G.o.d knows what they are up to. I know it will not end well. Our government is silent just now, but when it comes later to showing up the nails, you will recall my words. I am afraid lest you should get mixed up in things again. Give it up! It is all nonsense. You have children."

"Evidently you do not know me, Marya Ivanovna," said her brother.

"All right, all right, we shall see. Either I do not know you, or you do not know yourself. I just told you what I had on my heart, and if you will listen to me, well and good. Now we can talk about Serezha. What kind of a lad is he?" She wanted to say, "I do not like him very much,"

but she only said: "He resembles his mother remarkably: they are like two drops of water. Sonya is you all over,--I like her very much, very much--so sweet and open. She is a dear. Where is she, Sonya? Yes, I forgot."

"How shall I tell you? Sonya will make a good wife and a good mother, but my Serezha is clever, very clever,--n.o.body will take that from him.

He studied well,--a little lazy. He is very fond of the natural sciences. We have been fortunate: we had an excellent, excellent teacher. He wants to enter the university,--to attend lectures on the natural sciences, chemistry--"

Marya Ivanovna scarcely listened when her brother began to speak of the natural sciences. She seemed to feel sad, especially when he mentioned chemistry. She heaved a deep sigh and replied directly to that train of thoughts which the natural sciences evoked in her.

"If you knew how sorry I am for them, Pierre," she said, with sincere, calm, humble sadness. "So sorry, so sorry. A whole life before them. Oh, how much they will suffer yet!"

"Well, we must hope that they will be more fortunate than we."

"G.o.d grant it, G.o.d grant it! It is hard to live, Pierre! Take this one advice from me, my dear: don't philosophize! What a stupid you are, Pierre, oh, what a stupid! But I must attend to matters. I have invited a lot of people, but how am I going to feed them?" She flared up, turned away, and rang the bell.

"Call Taras!"

"Is the old man still with you?"

"Yes; why, he is a boy in comparison with me."

Taras was angry and clean, but he undertook to get everything done.

Soon Natalya Nikolaevna and Sonya, agleam with cold and happiness, and rustling in their dresses, entered the room; Serezha was still out, attending to some purchases.

"Let me get a good look at her!"

Marya Ivanovna took her face. Natalya Nikolaevna began to tell something.

THE DECEMBRISTS

SECOND FRAGMENT

(Variant of the First Chapter)

The litigation "about the seizure in the Government of Penza, County of Krasnoslobodsk, by the landed proprietor and ex-lieutenant of the Guards, Ivan Apkhtin, of four thousand desyatinas of land from the neighbouring Crown peasants of the village of Izlegoshcha," was through the solicitude of the peasants' representative, Ivan Mironov, decided in the court of the first instance--the County Court--in favour of the peasants, and the enormous parcel of land, partly in forest, and partly in ploughings which had been broken by Apkhtin's serfs, in the year 1815 returned into the possession of the peasants, and they in the year 1816 sowed in this land and harvested.

The winning of this irregular case by the peasants surprised all the neighbours and even the peasants themselves. This success of theirs could be explained only on the supposition that Ivan Petrovich Apkhtin, a very meek, peaceful man, who was opposed to litigations and was convinced of the righteousness of this matter, had taken no measures against the action of the peasants. On the other hand, Ivan Mironov, the peasants' representative, a dry, hook-nosed, literate peasant, who had been a township elder and had acted in the capacity of collector of taxes, had collected fifty kopeks from each peasant, which money he cleverly applied in the distribution of presents, and had very shrewdly conducted the whole affair.

Immediately after the decision handed down by the County Court, Apkhtin, seeing the danger, gave a power of attorney to the shrewd manumitted serf, Ilya Mitrofanov, who appealed to the higher court against the decision of the County Court. Ilya Mitrofanov managed the affair so shrewdly that, in spite of all the cunning of the peasants'

representative, Ivan Mironov, in spite of the considerable presents distributed by him to the members of the higher court, the case was retried in the Government Court in favour of the proprietor, and the land was to go back to him from the peasants, of which fact their representative was duly informed.

The representative, Ivan Mironov, told the peasants at the meeting of the Commune that the gentleman in the Government capital had pulled the proprietor's leg and had "mixed up" the whole business, so that they wanted to take the land back again, but that the proprietor would not be successful, because he had a pet.i.tion all written up to be sent to the Senate, and that then the land would be for ever confirmed to the peasants; all they had to do was to collect a rouble from each soul. The peasants decided to collect the money and again to entrust the whole matter to Ivan Mironov. When Mironov had all the money in his hands, he went to St. Petersburg.