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nydus/Short FictionPublic

A collection of all of the short stories and novellas written by Leo Tolstoy.

Page 623 of 2244
Table of Contents

I

sounds and observed the nankeen buttons on the steward’s coat. The top one, which he probably did not button up so often, was fixed on tightly; the middle one was hanging by a thread, and ought long ago to have been sewn on. But it is a well-known fact that in a conversation, especially a business conversation, it is not at all necessary to understand what is being said to you, but only to remember what you yourself want to say. The lady acted accordingly.

“How is it you won’t understand, Egór Miháylovitch?” she said. “I have not the least desire that a Doútlof should go as a soldier. One would think that, knowing me as you do, you might credit me with the wish to do everything in my power to help my serfs, and that I don’t desire their misfortune, and that I would sacrifice all I possess to escape from this sad necessity and to send neither Doútlof nor Polikoúshka.” (I don’t know whether it occurred to the steward that to escape the sad necessity there was no need to sacrifice everything⁠—that, in fact, three hundred roubles would be sufficient; but this thought might easily have occurred to him.)

“I will only say this: that I will not give up Polikoúshka on any account. When, after that affair with the clock, he confessed to me of his own accord, and cried, and gave his word to amend, I talked to him for a long time, and saw that he was touched and sincerely penitent.” (“There! She’s off now!” thought Egór Miháylovitch, and began examining the marmalade she had in a glass of water: was it orange or lemon? “Slightly bitter, I expect,” thought he.) “That is seven months ago now, and he has not once been drunk, and has behaved splendidly. His wife tells me he is a different man. How can you wish me to punish him now that he has reformed? Besides, it would be inhuman to make a soldier of a man who has five children, and he the only man in the family.⁠ ⁠… No, you’d better not say any more about it, Egór!”

And the lady took a sip out of the glass. Egór Miháylovitch watched the motion of her throat as the liquid passed down it, and then replied shortly and dryly:

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