Collected Shorter Fiction, Vol. 1 by Leo Tolstoy

Author:Leo Tolstoy [Tolstoy, Leo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literary, Fiction
ISBN: 9780307806659
Google: z37KIZqWem0C
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Random House Digital, Inc.
Published: 2012-05-30T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter XX

IN the room occupied by Nekhlyúdov – which was not a large one – there was an old leather couch studded with brass nails, several arm-chairs of a similar kind, an old-fashioned carved and inlaid card-table with a brass rim, which stood open and on which were some papers, and an open, old-fashioned English grand piano with a yellowish case and worn and warped narrow keys. Between the windows hung a large mirror in an old gilt carved frame. On the floor beside the table lay bundles of papers, books, and accounts. In general the whole room had a disorderly and characterless appearance, and this air of untidy occupancy formed a sharp contrast to the stiff, old-fashioned aristocratic arrangement of the other rooms of the large house.

On entering the room Nekhlyúdov angrily flung his hat on the table and sat down on a chair before the piano, crossing his legs and hanging his head.

‘Will you have lunch, your Excellence?’ asked a tall, thin, wrinkled old woman who entered the room in a cap, a print dress, and a large shawl.

Nekhlyúdov turned to look at her and was silent for a moment as if considering something.

‘No, I don’t want any, nurse,’ he said, and again sank into thought.

The old nurse shook her head at him with vexation, and sighed.

‘Eh, Dmítri Nikoláevich, why are you moping? There are worse troubles! It will pass – be sure it will …’

‘But I’m not moping. What has put that into your head, Malánya Finogénovna?’ replied Nekhlyúdov trying to smile.

‘How can you help moping – don’t I see?’ the old nurse retorted warmly. ‘All alone the whole day long. And you take everything so to heart and see to everything yourself – and now you hardly eat anything. Is it reasonable? If only you went to town or visited your neighbours, but who ever saw the likes of this? You are young to trouble so about everything.… Excuse me, master, I’ll sit down,’ she continued, taking a chair near the door. ‘Why, you’ve been so indulgent with them that they’re not afraid of anyone. Does a master behave like that? There is nothing good in it; you only ruin yourself and let the people get spoilt. Our people are like that: they don’t understand it – really they don’t. You might at least go to see your aunt. What she wrote was true.…’ she ended admonishingly.

Nekhlyúdov grew more and more dejected. He wearily touched the keys with his right hand, his elbow resting on his knee. Some sort of chord resulted, then another, and another.… He drew up his chair, took his other hand out of his pocket and began to play. The chords he struck were sometimes unprepared and not even quite correct; they were often trivial and commonplace, and did not indicate that he had any musical talent, but this occupation gave him a kind of indefinite, melancholy pleasure. At every change of harmony he waited with bated breath to see how it

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