Book 1, Chapter 12
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18991899

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Author : Leo Tolstoy

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Yes, it was Katiousha.

The relations of Nekhludoff to Katiousha were the following:

Nekhludoff first met Katiousha when he went to stay
one summer out at the estate of his aunts in order that
he might quietly prepare his thesis on the private ownership
of land. Ordinarily he lived on the estate of his
mother, near Moskow, with his mother and sister. But
that year his sister married, and his mother went abroad.
Nekhludoff had to write a composition in the course of
his university studies, and decided to pass the summer
at his aunts'. There in the woods it was quiet, and there
was nothing to distract him from his studies. Besides,
the aunts loved their nephew and heir, and he loved them,
loved their old-fashioned way of living.

During that summer Nekhludoff experienced that exaltation
which youth comes to know not by the teaching
of others, but when it naturally begins to recognize the
beauty and importance of life, and man's serious place
in it; when it sees the possibility of infinite perfection
of which the world is capable, and devotes itself to that
endeavor, not only with the hope, but with a full conviction
of reaching that perfection which it imagines possible.
While in the university he had that year read
Spencer's Social Statics, and Spencer's reasoning bearing
on private ownership of land produced a strong impression
on him, especially because he was himself the son
of a landed proprietress. His father was not rich, but
his mother received as her marriage portion ten thousand
acres of land. He then for the first time understood all
the injustice of private ownership of land, and being one
of those to whom any sacrifice in the name of moral duty
was a lofty spiritual enjoyment, he forthwith divided the
land he had inherited from his father among the peasants.
On this subject he was then composing a disquisition.

His life on the estate of his aunts was ordered in the
following way: He rose very early, some times at three
o'clock, and till sunrise bathed in the river under a hill,
often in the morning mist, and returned when the dew
was yet on the grass and flowers. Some mornings he
would, after partaking of coffee, sit down to write his
composition, or read references bearing on the subject.
But, above all, he loved to ramble in the woods. Before
dinner he would lie down in the woods and sleep; then,
at dinner, he made merry, jesting with his aunts; then
went out riding or rowing. In the evening he read again,
or joined his aunts, solving riddles for them. On moonlit
nights he seldom slept, because of the immense joy
of life that pervaded him, and instead of sleeping, he
sometimes rambled in the garden till daylight, absorbed
in his thoughts and fantasies.

Thus he lived happily the first month under the roof
of his aunts' dwelling, paying no attention to the half-servant,
half-ward, the black-eyed, nimble-footed Katiousha.

Nekhludoff, raised under the protecting wing of his
mother, was at nineteen a perfectly innocent youth. He
dreamed of woman, but only as wife. All those women
who, according to his view, could not be considered as
likely to become his wife, were to him not women, but
people. But it happened on Ascension Day that there was
visiting his aunts a lady from the neighborhood with her
two young daughters, her son and a local artist who was
staying with them.

After tea had been served the entire company, as usual,
repaired to the meadow, where they played blind man's
buff. Katiousha went with them. After some exchanges
came Nekhludoff's turn to run with Katiousha. Nekhludoff
always liked to see Katiousha, but it had never occurred
to him that their relations could ever be any but
the most formal.

"It will be difficult to catch them now," said the cheerful
artist, whose short and curved legs carried him very
swiftly, "unless they stumble."

"You could not catch them."

"One, two, three!"

They clapped their hands three times. Almost bursting
into laughter, Katiousha quickly changed places with
Nekhludoff, and pressing with her strong, rough little
hand his large hand she ran to the left, rustling her
starched skirt.

Nekhludoff was a swift runner; he wished to out-distance
the artist, and ran with all his might. As he turned
around he saw the artist catching up with Katiousha, but
with her supple limbs she gained on him and ran to the
left. In front of them was a patch of lilac bushes, behind
which no one ran, but Katiousha, turning toward Nekhludoff,
motioned him with her head to join her there. He
understood her, and ran behind the bushes. But here was
a ditch overgrown with nettles, whose presence was unknown
to Nekhludoff. He stumbled and fell, stinging and
wetting his hands in the evening dew that was now falling,
but, laughing, he straightened himself and ran into
the open.

Katiousha, her black eyes beaming with joy, ran toward
him. They met and caught each others' hands.

"You were stung by the nettles, I suppose," she said, arranging
with her free hand her loosened braid, breathing
heavily, and looking up into his eyes.

"I did not know there was a ditch," he said, also smiling,
and still keeping her hand in his.

She advanced a little, and he, without being able to account
for it, inclined his face toward hers. She did not
draw back. He pressed her hand and kissed her on the
lips.

She uttered an exclamation, and with a swift movement,
releasing her hand, she ran in the direction of the crowd.

Plucking two lilac twigs from the lilac bush, fanning
her flushed face with them, and glancing around toward
him, she ran to the players, briskly waving her hands.

From this day on the relations between Nekhludoff
and Katiousha were changed, and there were established
between them those peculiar relations which are customary
between two innocent young people who are attached
to each other.

As soon as Katiousha entered the room, or even when
Nekhludoff saw her white apron from afar, everything
became immediately as if lit by the sun; everything became
more interesting, more cheerful, more important;
life became more joyful. She experienced the same feeling.
But not alone the presence and proximity of Katiousha
had such effect upon Nekhludoff; the very thought of
her existence had the same power upon him as that of his
had upon her. Whether he received an unpleasant letter
from his mother, or was backward in his composition, or
felt the ceaseless sadness of youth, it would suffice for him
to see her and his spirit resumed its wonted good cheer.

Katiousha had to do all the housework, but she managed
to do her duty and found spare time for reading. He
gave her the works of Dostoievsky and Tourgenieff to
read. Those descriptive of the beauties of nature she
liked best. Their conversations were but momentary,
when they met in the corridor, on the veranda, in the
court-yard, or in the room of the aunts' old servant, Matriena
Pavlovna, with whom Katiousha roomed, or in the
servants' chamber, whither Nekhludoff sometimes went
to drink tea. And these conversations in the presence of
Matriena Pavlovna were the pleasantest. When they
were alone their conversation flagged. Then the eyes
would speak something different, more important, than
the mouth; the lips were drawn up, they felt uncomfortable,
and quickly parted.

These relations continued during the time of his first
visit to his aunts. The aunts noticed them, were dismayed,
and immediately wrote to the Princess Elena Ivanovna,
Nekhludoff's mother. But their anxiety was unfounded;
Nekhludoff, without knowing it, loved Katiousha, as innocent
people love, and this very love was the principal
safeguard against either his or her fall. Not only did he
not desire to possess her physically, but the very thought
of such relation horrified him. There was more reason in
the poetical Sophia Ivanovna's fear that Nekhludoff's
having fallen in love with a girl, might take a notion to
marry her without regard to her birth or station.

If Nekhludoff were clearly conscious of his love for
Katiousha; especially if it were sought to persuade him that
he could and must not link his fate to that of the girl, he
would very likely have decided in his plumb-line mind that
there was no reason why he should not marry her, no matter
who she was, provided he loved her. But the aunts
did not speak of their fears, and he departed without
knowing that he was enamored of Katiousha.

He was certain that his feeling toward Katiousha was
but a manifestation of that joy which pervaded his entire
being, and which was shared by that lovely, cheerful girl.
However, when he was taking leave, and Katiousha, standing
on the veranda with the aunts, followed him with her
black, tearful and somewhat squinting eyes, he felt that
he was leaving behind him something beautiful, precious,
which would never recur. And he became very sad.

"Good-by, Katiousha. I thank you for everything," he
said, over the cap of Sophia Ivanovna, and seated himself
in the cabriolet.

"Good-by, Dmitri Ivanovich," she said, in her pleasant,
caressing voice, and holding back the tears which
filled her eyes, ran into her room, where she could cry
freely.

(Source: The Awakening by graf Leo Tolstoy, Translated by Smith, William E., AKA: The Resurrection. Text from Gutenberg.org.)


     From : Gutenberg.org

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     Book 1, Chapter 12 -- Publication : November 30, 1898

     Book 1, Chapter 12 -- Added : February 11, 2017

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