Chapter 8 -------------------------------------------------------------------- 18521852 People : ---------------------------------- Author : Leo Tolstoy Translator : Leo Wiener Text : ---------------------------------- " Come, show me your horses ! Are they in the yard ? " " Yes, 'r Grace. I have done as I have been ordered to, 'r Grace. Would we dare to disobey 'r Grace ? Yakov Alpatych commanded me not to let the horses out to pasture for the next day, as the prince wanted to inspect them, so we did not let them out. We do not dare disobey 'r Grace." As Nekhlyudov walked out of the door, Yukhvanka got the pipe down from the beds, and threw it behind the oven. His lips quivered just as restlessly, though the master was not looking at him. A lean gray mare was rummaging through some musty hay under the shed ; a two-months-old, long-legged colt of an indefinable color, with bluish feet and mouth, did not leave her mother's thin tail that was all stuck up with burrs. In the middle of the yard stood, blinking and pensively lowering his head, a thick-bellied chestnut gelding, apparently a good peasant horse. " Are these all your horses ? " " By no means, 'r Grace. Here is a little mare and a little colt," answered Yukhvanka, pointing to the horses which the master could not help having noticed. " I see that. Now, which one do you want to sell ? " " This one, 'r Grace," he answered, waving with the flap of his coat in the direction of the drowsy gelding, continually blinking, and twitching his lips. The gelding opened his eyes and lazily turned his back to him. "He does not look old, and is apparently a sound horse," said Nekhlyudov. " Catch him, and show me his teeth ! I will find out if he is old." " It is impossible for one person to catch him, 'r Grace. The whole beast is not worth a penny. He has a temper : he bites and kicks, 'r Grace," answered Yukhvanka, smil- ing merrily, and turning his eyes in all directions. " What nonsense ! Catch him, I tell you ! " Yukhvanka smiled for a long time, and shuffled his feet, and not until Nekhlyudov cried out in anger, " Well, will you ? " did he run under the shed and bring a halter. He began to run after the horse, frightening him, and walking up to him from behind, and not in front. The young master was evidently disgusted, and, no doubt, wanted to show his agility. " Give me the halter ! " he said. " I pray, 'r Grace ! How can you ? — " But Nekhlyudov walked up to the horse's head and, suddenly taking hold of his ears, bent it down with such a force that the gelding, who, as could be seen, was a very gentle peasant horse, tottered and groaned, in his attempt to tear himself away. When Nekhlyudov noticed that it was unnecessary to use such force, and when he glanced at Yukhvanka, who did not cease smiling, the thought, so offensive at his years, occurred to him that Yukhvanka was making fun of him and mentally regarding him as a child. He blushed, let the horse go, and without the help of a halter opened his mouth and examined his teeth : the teeth were sound, the crowns full, and the young proprietor was enough informed to know that all this meant that the horse was young. Yukhvanka, in the meantime, had gone under the shed, and, noticing that the harrow was not in place, he lifted it and put it on edge against the fence. " Come here ! " cried the master, with an expression of childlike annoyance on his face, and almost with tears of mortification and anger in his voice. " Well, you call that an old horse ? " " I pray, 'r Grace, he is very old, some twenty years old — some horses — " " Silence ! You are a liar and a good-for-nothing, because an honest peasant would not lie, — he has no cause to lie ! " said Nekhlyudov, choking with tears of anger, which rose in his throat. He grew silent in order not to burst out into tears, and thus disgrace himself before the peasant. Yukhvanka, too, was silent, and, with the expression of a man who is ready to burst into tears, snuffled and shghtly jerked his head. " Well, with what animal will you plow your field when you have sold this horse ? " continued Nekhlyudov, having calmed down sufficiently to speak in his customary voice. " You are purposely sent to do work on foot, so as to give your horses a chance to improve for the plowing, and you want to sell your last horse. But, the main thing is, why do you lie ? " The moment the master grew calm, Yukhvanka quieted down, too. He stood straight, and, still jerking his lips, let his eyes flit from one object to another. " We will drive out to work, 'r Grace," he replied, " not worse than the rest." " What will you drive with? " " Do not worry, we will do the work of 'r Grace," he answered, shouting to the gelding, and driving him away. " I should not have thought of selling him if I did not need the money." " What do you need the money for ? " " There is no bread, 'r Grace, and I have to pay my debts to the peasants, 'r Grace," " How so, no bread ? How is it the others, who have families, have bread, and you, who have none, have not any ? What has become of your grain ? " " We have eaten it up, and now not a crumb is left. I will buy a horse in the fall, 'r Grace." " You shall not dare sell this horse ! " " If so, 'r Grace, what kind of a life will it be ? There is no bread, and I must not sell anything," he answered sideways, twitching his lips, and suddenly casting a bold glance upon the master's face. " It means, we shall have to starve." " Look here, man ! " cried Nekhlyudov, pale with anger, and experiencing a feeling of personal hatred for the peasant. " I will not keep such peasants as you. It will go hard with you." " Such will be your will, 'r Grace," he answered, covering his eyes with a feigned expression of humility, " if I have not served you right. And yet, nobody has noticed any vices in me. Of course, if 'r Grace is displeased with me, 'r Grace will do as you wish ; only I do not know why I should suffer." " I will tell you why : because your yard is not fenced in, your manure not plowed up, your fences are broken, and you sit at home and smoke a pipe, and do not work ; because you do not give your mother, who has turned the whole farm over to you, a piece of bread, and permit your wife to strike her, and have treated her so badly that she has come to me to complain about you." " I beg your pardon, 'r Grace, I do not know what pipes you are speaking of," Yukhvanka answered, confusedly, apparently very much insulted by the accusation of smoking a pipe. " It is easy to say anything about a man." " There you are lying again ! I saw myself — " " How would I dare to lie to 'r Grace ? " Nekhlyudov was silent, and, biting his lips, paced the yard. Yukhvanka stood in one spot and, without raising his eyes, watched his master's feet. " Listen, Epifan," said Nekhlyudov, in a voice of childlike gentleness, stopping in front of the peasant, and endeavoring 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 honor your mother. I know all about you. Attend to your farm, and stop stealing timber in the Crown forest and frequenting the tavern ! What good is there in it, think ! If you have need of anything, come to me, ask straight out for what you need, and tell why you need it, and do not lie, but tell the whole truth, and I will not refuse you anything I can do for you." " If you please, 'r Grace, we can understand 'r Grace ! " answered Yukhvanka, smiling, as if fuUy comprehending the charm of the master's jest. This smile and reply completely disappointed Nekhlyudov, who had hoped to touch the peasant and bring him back on the true path by persuasion. And then, it seemed improper for him, who was possessed of power, to persuade his peasant, and it seemed, too, that everything he said was not exactly what he ought to have said. He lowered his head in sadness and walked into the vestibule. The old woman was sitting on the threshold and groaning aloud, in order, as it seemed, to express her sympathy with the master's words which she had heard. " Here is some money for bread," Nekhlyiidov whispered into her ear, putting a bill into her hand. " Only buy for yourself, and do not give it to Yukhvanka, who will spend it in drinks." The old woman took hold of the lintel with her bony hand, in order to rise and thank the master, and her head began to shake, but Nekhlyudov was on the other side of the street when she rose. From : Wikisource.org Events : ---------------------------------- Chapter 8 -- Publication : November 30, 1851 About This Textfile : ---------------------------------- Text file generated from : http://revoltlib.com/