Leo Tolstoy

“ How can one bewitch?"
"Father, they can bewitch so as to make one a no-man for all his life! There are many evil people in the world! Out of malice they take out a handful of earth in one's track—or something else—and one is a no-man for ever. It is easy to sin! I have been thinking of going to see old man Dundúk, who lives at Vorobévka: he knows all kinds of incantations, and he knows herbs, and he takes away the evil eye, and draws the dropsy out of the spine. Maybe he will help!" said the woman. "Maybe he will cure him!"
"Now that is wretchedness and ignorance!" ”

“ When Nekhlyúdov seated himself again on the bench, and silence reigned in the hut, interrupted only by the blubbering of the old woman, who had again removed herself to her place under the beds, and was there wiping off her tears with the sleeve of her shirt, the young proprietor comprehended what meaning the dilapidated wretched hut, the broken well with the dirty puddle, the rotting stables and barns, and the split willows that could be seen through the crooked window, had for Churís and his wife, and a heavy, melancholy feeling came over him, and he was embarrassed. ”

“ Epifán bowed, and mumbled, "We wish you health, 'r Grace," pronouncing the last words with peculiar tenderness, and his eyes in a twinkle surveyed the whole form of the master, the hut, the floor, and the ceiling, not stopping at anything; then he hurriedly walked up to the beds, pulled down a coat from them, and began to put it on.
"Why are you dressing yourself?" said Nekhlyúdov, seating himself on a bench, and obviously trying to look as stern as possible at Epifán. ”

“ It seems to me we know —"
"I came in to see why you must sell a horse, how many horses you have, and what horse it is you want to sell," dryly said the master, evidently repeating questions prepared in advance.
"We are well satisfied with 'r Grace, because you have deigned to call on me, a peasant," replied Yukhvánka, casting rapid glances at the general's portrait, at the oven, at the master's boots, and at all objects except Nekhlyúdov's face. "We always pray God for 'r Grace —"
"Why are you selling a horse?" repeated Nekhlyúdov, raising his voice, and clearing his throat. ”

“ An old red cock and two hens promenaded over the floor and benches, jerking their crops, and clattering with their claws. When they saw a man, they fluttered with wide-spread wings against the walls with a clucking of despair, and one of them flew upon the oven.
The eighteen-foot hut was all occupied by the oven with a broken pipe, a weaver's loom which had not been removed in spite of summer, and a begrimed table with a warped and cracked board. Though it was dry without, there was a dirty puddle near the threshold which had been formed at a previous rain by a leak in the ceiling and roof. ”

“ Nekhlyúdov was silent, and, biting his lips, paced the yard. Yukhvánka stood in one spot and, without raising his eyes, watched his master's feet.
"Listen, Epifán," said Nekhlyúdov, in a voice of childlike gentleness, stopping in front of the peasant, and endeavouring to conceal his agitation. "Bethink yourself. If you want to be a good peasant, you must change your life: leave your bad habits, stop lying, give up drinking, and honour your mother. I know all about you. Attend to your farm, and stop stealing timber in the Crown forest and frequenting the tavern! ”

“ The third soldier, with an earring in one ear, bristly moustache, a sharp, birdlike face, and a porcelain pipe between his teeth, who was squatting near the fire, was the artillery-rider Chíkin. The dear man Chíkin, as the soldiers called him, was a joker. Whether in bitter cold, or up to his knees in mud, for two days without food, in an expedition, on parade, at instruction, the dear man always and everywhere made faces, pirouetted with his feet, and did such funny things that the whole platoon roared with laughter. ”

“ Well, are they swarming already?" asked Nekhlyúdov, also smiling, though he knew not why.
"They are swarming, Father Dmítri Nikoláevich," answered the old man, wishing to express his especial kindness by calling his master by his name and patronymic, "but they have just begun to do it properly. It has been a cold spring, you know."
"I have read in a book," began Nekhlyúdov, warding off a bee that had lost itself in his hair, and was buzzing over his very ear, "that when the combs are placed straight on little bars, the bees begin to swarm earlier. ”

“ Then again, how can I show up in Russia before my elder, the merchant Kotélnikov, to whom I sell my grain, before my Moscow aunt, and before all those gentlemen, after two years in the Caucasus, without any advancement? It is true, I do not care to know these gentlemen, and, no doubt, they care very little for me; and yet a man is so built that, although he does not care one bit for such gentlemen, he wastes the best years, the whole happiness of his life, and his whole future on account of them. ”

“ Everybody else has."
"Others have manured land, and my land is mere clay that you can't do anything with."
"But that is what your manure is for, to take away the clay: and the soil will produce grain, and you will have something to feed your animals with."
"But if there are no animals, where is the manure to come from?"
"This is a strange cercle vicieux," thought Nekhlyúdov, but was at a loss how to advise the peasant.
"And then again, your Grace, not the manure makes the grain grow, but God," continued Churís. ”

“ In ancient times there lived a good master. He had plenty of everything, and many slaves served him. And the slaves prided themselves on their master. They said: "There is not a better master under heaven. He feeds us and dresses us well, and gives us work to do according to our strength, and never offends us with a word, and bears no grudge against any one; he is not like other masters who torture their slaves worse than cattle, and punish them with cause and without cause, and never say a good word to them. Our master wishes us good, and does us good, and speaks good words to us. ”

“ When Nekhlyúdov noticed that Davýdka did not understand him, he tried with various questions to rouse the peasant from his servile and patient silence.
"Why did you ask me for timber when you have had some lying here for a month, and that, too, when you have most time your own, eh?"
Davýdka kept stubborn silence, and did not stir.
"Well, answer!"
Davýdka muttered something, and blinked with his white eyelashes.
"But you must work, my dear: what will happen without work? Now, you have no grain, and why? ”

“ Davýdka immediately wheeled around and, with difficulty lifting his fat leg, in an immense dirty bast shoe, over the threshold, was lost in the opposite door.
"What am I going to do with him, father?" continued Arína, turning to the master. "You see yourself what he is! He is not a bad peasant: he does not drink, is peaceful, and would not harm a child,—it would be a sin to say otherwise; there is nothing bad about him, and God only knows what it is that has befallen him that he has become his own enemy. ”

“ The old man became greatly agitated; his eyes flashed, he began to shrug his shoulders.
"It may be evil people have told you something about me," he spoke in a trembling voice, "but, as you believe in God," he said, becoming more and more animated, and turning his eyes to the image, "may my eyes burst, may I go through the floor, if I have anything outside of the fifteen roubles which Ilyúshka has brought me, and I must pay the capitation tax, and, you know yourself, I have just built a new hut—"
"All right, all right!" said the master, rising from the bench. "Good-bye, people!" ”

“ I will make the proposition to him, and will do my part," thought Nekhlyúdov, and, letting the horses pass by, he went into Dutlóv's spacious yard. He could see that the manure had lately been removed: the earth was still black and sweaty, and in places, particularly near the gate, lay scattered red-fibred shreds. In the yard, and under the high sheds, stood in good order many carts, ploughs, sleighs, blocks, tubs, and all kinds of peasant possessions. Pigeons flitted to and fro and cooed in the shade under the broad, solid rafters. There was an odour of manure and tar. ”

“ That's bad, brothers," repeated Velenchúk.
"You ought to smoke cigars, dear man!" remarked Chíkin, screwing up his mouth and winking. "I always smoke cigars at home; they are sweeter."
Of course, everybody rolled in laughter.
"So you forgot your pipe," interrupted Maksímov, not paying any attention to the general merriment, and, with the air of a superior, proudly knocking out the ashes by striking the pipe against the palm of his left hand. "What have you been doing there? Eh, Velenchúk?"
Velenchúk turned half-around to him, put his hand to his cap, and then dropped it. ”

“ The nurse angrily shook her head at him, and sighed.
"Oh, Dmitri Nikoláevich, why do you look so sad? There are greater sorrows, and they pass, — really they do —"
"But I am not sad. What makes you think so, Mother Malánya Finogénovna?" answered Nekhlyúdov, trying to smile.
"Yes, you are. Don't I see it?" the nurse began to speak with animation. "You are day in, day out, all alone. And you take everything to heart, and attend to everything yourself. You have even quit eating. ”

“ He can't even speak like a man. There he stands, blockhead," she continued, contemptuously pointing with her head to Davýdka's wretched, massive figure. "My farm, your Grace? We are mendicants; there are no people in your whole village more wretched: we have neither of our own, nor anything for the manorial dues—a shame! He has brought us to all this. I bore him, raised, and fed him, and with anticipation waited for him to grow up. Here he is: the grain is bursting, but there is no more work in him than in this rotten log. ”

“ Last year a heifer died, the other I sold, for we had nothing to live on; two years ago a fine cow died; when she was driven home from the herd, there was nothing the matter with her, but she suddenly staggered, and staggered, and off she went. Just my bad luck!"
"Well, my friend, you may say what you please about not having any cattle, because you have no feed, and about having no feed, because you have no cattle,—here is some money for a cow," said Nekhlyúdov, blushing, and taking from his trousers' pocket a package of crumpled bills, and running through it. ”

“ You are young, so why should you worry about everything? Forgive me, sir, I will sit down," continued the nurse, seating herself near the door. "You have been so indulgent with them, that nobody is afraid of you. Is this the way masters do? There is nothing good in it. You are ruining yourself, and the people are getting spoilt. You know, our peasants do not understand what you are doing for them, really they don't. Why do you not go to see your aunty: she wrote you the truth — "the nurse admonished him.
Nekhlyúdov kept growing more and more despondent. ”

“ But Nekhlyúdov could no longer repress his desire to run out of the apiary; the bees had stung him in three places, and they were buzzing on all sides about his head and neck.
"Have you many hives?" he asked, retreating to the gate.
"As many as God has given," answered Dutlóv, smiling. "One must not count them, father! the bees do not like that. Now, your Grace, I wanted to ask you," he continued, pointing to thin hives that stood near the fence, "in regard to Ósip, the nurse's husband. Could you not tell him to stop it? It is mean to act thus to a neighbour of your own village." ”

“ Karp listened attentively to the words of the master.
"We are very well satisfied with your favour," he said, when Nekhlyúdov stopped and looked at him, expecting an answer. "Of course, there is nothing bad in this. It is better for a peasant to attend to the soil than to flourish his whip. Peasants of our kind get easily spoilt, when they travel among strange men, and meet all kinds of people. There is nothing better for a peasant than to busy himself with the land." ”

“ Always and everywhere, but especially in the Caucasus, have I noticed the peculiar tact of our soldiers, who, during peril, pass over in silence and avoid all such things as might unhappily affect the minds of their comrades. The spirit of the Russian soldiers is not based, like the bravery of the southern nations, on an easily inflamed, and just as easily extinguished, enthusiasm. ”

“ The small, bent form of an old man, with his uncovered gray, and partly bald, head shining in the sun, was seen near the door of a newly thatched, moss-calked plank building, which was situated between the lindens. Upon hearing the creaking of the gate, the old man turned around and, wiping off his perspiring, sunburnt face with the skirt of his shirt, and smiling gently and joyfully, came to meet the master.
The apiary was so cosy, so pleasant, so quiet, and so sunlit ”