________________________________________________
_ Agafea Mihalovna went out on tiptoe; the nurse let down the
blind, chased a fly out from under the muslin canopy of the crib,
and a humblebee struggling on the window-frame, and sat down
waving a faded branch of birch over the mother and the baby.
"How hot it is! if God would send a drop of rain," she said.
"Yes, yes, sh--sh--sh " was all Kitty answered, rocking a little,
and tenderly squeezing the plump little arm, with rolls of fat at
the wrist, which Mitya still waved feebly as he opened and shut
his eyes. That hand worried Kitty; she longed to kiss the little
hand, but was afraid to for fear of waking the baby. At last the
little hand ceased waving, and the eyes closed. Only from time to
time, as he went on sucking, the baby raised his long, curly
eyelashes and peeped at his mother with wet eyes, that looked
black in the twilight. The nurse had left off fanning, and was
dozing. From above came the peals of the old prince's voice, and
the chuckle of Katavasov.
"They have got into talk without me," thought Kitty, "but still
it's vexing that Kostya's out. He's SUN to have gone to the
bee-house again. Though it's a pity he's there so often, still
I'm glad. It distracts his mind. He's become altogether happier
and better now than in the spring. He used to be so gloomy and
worried that I felt frightened for him. And how absurd he isl"
she whispered, smiling.
She knew what worried her husband. It was his unbelief. Although,
if she had been asked whether she supposed that in the future
life, if he did not believe, he would be damned, she would have
had to admit that he would be damned, his unbelief did not cause
her unhappiness. And she, confessing that for an unbeliever there
can be no salvation, and loving her husband's soul more than
anything in the world, thought with a smile of his unbelief, and
told herself that he was absurd.
"What does he keep reading philosophy of some sort for all this
year?" she wondered. "If it's all written in those books, he can
understand them. If it's all wrong, why does he read them? He
says himself that he would like to believe. Then why is it he
doesn't believe? Surely from his thinking so much? And he thinks
so much from being solitary. He's always alone, alone. He can't
talk about it all to us. I fancy he'll be glad of these visitors,
especially Katavasov. He likes discussions with them," she
thought, and passed instantly to the consideration of where it
would be more convenient to put Katavasov, to sleep alone or to
share Sergey Ivanovitch's room. And then an idea suddenly struck
her, which made her shudder and even disturb Mitya, who glanced
severely at her. "I do believe the laundress hasn't sent the
washing yet, and all the best sheets are in use. If I don't see
to it, Agafea Mihalovna will give Sergey Ivanovitch the wrong
sheets," and at the very idea of this the blood rushed to Kitty's
face.
"Yes, I will arrange it," she decided, and going back to her
former thoughts, she remembered that some spiritual question of
importance had been interrupted, and she began to recall what.
"Yes, Kostya, an unbeliever," she thought again with a smile.
"Well, an unbeliever them Better let him always be one than like
Madame Stahl, or what I tried to be in those days abroad. No, he
won't ever sham anything."
And a recent instance of his goodness rose vividly to her mind. A
fortnight ago a penitent letter had come from Stepan Arkadyevitch
to Dolly. He besought her to save his honor, to sell her estate
to pay his debts. Dolly was in despair, she detested her husband,
despised him, pitied him, resolved on a separation, resolved to
refuse, but ended by agreeing to sell part of her property. After
that, with an irrepressible smile of tenderness, Kitty recalled
her husband's shamefaced embarrassment, his repeated awkward
efforts to approach the subject, and how at last, having thought
of the one means of helping Dolly without wounding her pride, he
had suggested to Kitty--what had not occurred to her before--that
she should give up her share of the property.
"He an unbeliever indeed! With-his heart, his dread of offending
any one, even a childl Everything for others, nothing for
himself. Sergey Ivanovitch simply considers it as Kostya's duty
to be his steward. And it's the same with his sister. Now Dolly
and her children are under his guardianship; all these peasants
who come to him every day, as though he were bound to be at their
service."
"Yes, only be like your father, only like him," she said, handing
Mitya over to the nurse, and putting her lips to his cheek. _
Read next: Part Eight: Chapter 8
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