of every one in the house for any wrong she might have done them, and
requested the priest to send us word of the number of times she had
blessed us for our love of her, as well as of how in her last moments
she had implored our forgiveness if, in her ignorance, she had ever at
any time given us offence. "Yet a thief have I never been. Never have I
used so much as a piece of thread that was not my own." Such was the one
quality which she valued in herself.
Dressed in the cap and gown prepared so long beforehand, and with her
head resting, upon the cushion made for the purpose, she conversed with
the priest up to the very last moment, until, suddenly, recollecting
that she had left him nothing for the poor, she took out ten roubles,
and asked him to distribute them in the parish. Lastly she made the sign
of the cross, lay down, and expired--pronouncing with a smile of joy the
name of the Almighty.
She quitted life without a pang, and, so far from fearing death,
welcomed it as a blessing. How often do we hear that said, and how
seldom is it a reality! Natalia Savishna had no reason to fear death
for the simple reason that she died in a sure and certain faith and in
strict obedience to the commands of the Gospel. Her whole life had
been one of pure, disinterested love, of utter self-negation. Had her
convictions been of a more enlightened order, her life directed to a
higher aim, would that pure soul have been the more worthy of love and
reverence? She accomplished the highest and best achievement in this
world: she died without fear and without repining.
They buried her where she had wished to lie--near the little mausoleum
which still covers Mamma's tomb. The little mound beneath which she
sleeps is overgrown with nettles and burdock, and surrounded by a black
railing, but I never forget, when leaving the mausoleum, to approach
that railing, and to salute the plot of earth within by bowing
reverently to the ground.
Sometimes, too, I stand thoughtfully between the railing and the
mausoleum, and sad memories pass through my mind. Once the idea came to
me as I stood there: "Did Providence unite me to those two beings solely
in order to make me regret them my life long?"
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Boyhood, by Leo Tolstoy
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BOYHOOD
By Leo Tolstoy
Translated by C.J. HOGARTH
I. A SLOW JOURNEY
Again two carriages stood at the front door of the house at Petrovskoe.
In one of them sat Mimi, the two girls, and their maid, with the
bailiff, Jakoff, on the box, while in the other--a britchka--sat Woloda,
myself, and our servant Vassili. Papa, who was to follow us to Moscow in
a few days, was standing bareheaded on the entrance-steps. He made the
sign of the cross at the windows of the carriages, and said:
"Christ go with you! Good-bye."
Jakoff and our coachman (for we had our own horses) lifted their caps in
answer, and also made the sign of the cross.
"Amen. God go with us!"
The carriages began to roll away, and the birch-trees of the great
avenue filed out of sight.
I was not in the least depressed on this occasion, for my mind was not
so much turned upon what I had left as upon what was awaiting me. In
proportion as the various objects connected with the sad recollections
which had recently filled my imagination receded behind me, those
recollections lost their power, and gave place to a consolatory feeling
of life, youthful vigour, freshness, and hope.
Seldom have I spent four days more--well, I will not say gaily, since
I should still have shrunk from appearing gay--but more agreeably and
pleasantly than those occupied by our journey.
No longer were my eyes confronted with the closed door of Mamma's room
(which I had never been able to pass without a pang), nor with the
covered piano (which nobody opened now, and at which I could never look
without trembling), nor with mourning dresses (we had each of us on our
ordinary travelling clothes), nor with all those other objects which
recalled to me so vividly our irreparable loss, and forced me to abstain
from any manifestation of merriment lest I should unwittingly offend
against HER memory.
On the contrary, a continual succession of new and exciting objects
and places now caught and held my attention, and the charms of spring
awakened in my soul a soothing sense of satisfaction with the present
and of blissful hope for the future.
Very early next morning the merciless Vassili (who had only just entered
our service, and was therefore, like most people in such a position,
zealous to a fault) came and stripped off my counterpane, affirming that
it was time for me to get up, since everything was in readiness for us
to continue our journey. Though I felt inclined to stretch myself and
rebel--though I would gladly have spent another quarter of an hour in
sweet enjoyment of my morning slumber--Vassili's inexorable face showed
that he would grant me no respite, but that he was ready to tear away
the counterpane twenty times more if necessary. Accordingly I submitted
myself to the inevitable and ran down into the courtyard to wash myself
at the fountain.
In the coffee-room, a tea-kettle was already surmounting the fire which
Milka the ostler, as red in the face as a crab, was blowing with a pair
of bellows. All was grey and misty in the courtyard, like steam from a
smoking dunghill, but in the eastern sky the sun was diffusing a clear,
cheerful radiance, and making the straw roofs of the sheds around the
courtyard sparkle with the night dew. Beneath them stood our horses,
tied to mangers, and I could hear the ceaseless sound of their chewing.
A curly-haired dog which had been spending the night on a dry dunghill
now rose in lazy fashion and, wagging its tail, walked slowly across the
courtyard.
The bustling landlady opened the creaking gates, turned her meditative
cows into the street (whence came the lowing and bellowing of other
cattle), and exchanged a word or two with a sleepy neighbour. Philip,
with his shirt-sleeves rolled up, was working the windlass of a
draw-well, and sending sparkling fresh water coursing into an oaken
trough, while in the pool beneath it some early-rising ducks were taking
a bath. It gave me pleasure to watch his strongly-marked, bearded face,
and the veins and muscles as they stood out upon his great powerful
hands whenever he made an extra effort. In the room behind the
partition-wall where Mimi and the girls had slept (yet so near to
ourselves that we had exchanged confidences overnight) movements now
became audible, their maid kept passing in and out with clothes, and, at
last the door opened and we were summoned to breakfast. Woloda, however,
remained in a state of bustle throughout as he ran to fetch first one
article and then another and urged the maid to hasten her preparations.
The horses were put to, and showed their impatience by tinkling their