Lavretzky spent a day and a half at Vasilievskoe, and during nearly the
whole of that time he wandered about the neighbourhood. He could not
remain long in one place: anguish gnawed him; he experienced all the
torture of incessant, impetuous, and impotent impulses. He recalled the
feeling which had taken possession of his soul on the day following his
arrival in the country; he recalled his intentions at that time, and
waxed very angry with himself. What could have torn him away from that
which he recognised as his duty, the sole task of his future? The thirst
for happiness--once more, the thirst for happiness!--"Obviously,
Mikhalevitch is right," he thought. "Thou hast wished once more to taste
of happiness in life,"--he said to himself,--"thou hast forgotten what a
luxury, what an unmerited mercy it is when it has visited a man even
once. It was not complete, thou wilt say? But put forth thy claims to
complete, genuine happiness! Look about thee: who of those around thee is
blissful, who enjoys himself? Yonder, a peasant is driving to the
reaping; perchance, he is satisfied with his lot.... What of that?
Wouldst thou change with him? Remember thy mother: how insignificantly
small were her demands, and what lot fell to her share? Thou hast,
evidently, only been bragging before Panshin, when thou saidst to him,
that thou hadst come to Russia in order to till the earth; thou hast come
in order to run after the girls in thine old age. The news of thy freedom
came, and thou didst discard everything, thou didst forget everything,
thou didst run like a little boy after a butterfly."... Liza's image
uninterruptedly presented itself before his thoughts; with an effort he
drove it away, as he did also another importunate image, other
imperturbably-crafty, beautiful, and detested features. Old Anton
noticed that his master was not himself; after heaving several sighs
outside the door, and several more on the threshold, he made up his mind
to approach him, and advised him to drink something warm. Lavretzky
shouted at him, ordered him to leave the room, but afterward begged his
pardon; but this caused Anton to grow still more disconsolate.
Lavretzky could not sit in the drawing-room; he felt as though his
great-grandfather Andrei were gazing scornfully from the canvas at his
puny descendant.--"Ekh, look out for thyself! thou art sailing in shoal
water!" his lips, pursed up on one side, seemed to be saying. "Can it
be,"--he thought,--"that I shall not be able to conquer myself,--that I
shall give in to this--nonsense?" (The severely-wounded in war always
call their wounds "nonsense." If a man could not deceive himself,--he
could not live on the earth.) "Am I really a miserable little boy? Well,
yes: I have beheld close by, I have almost held in my hand, the
possibility of happiness for my whole life--it has suddenly vanished; and
in a lottery, if you turn the wheel just a little further, a poor man
might become a rich one. If it was not to be, it was not to be,--and
that's the end of the matter. I'll set to work, with clenched teeth, and
I will command myself to hold my tongue; luckily, it is not the first
time I have had to take myself in hand. And why did I run away, why am I
sitting here, with my head thrust into a bush, like an ostrich? To be
afraid to look catastrophe in the face--is nonsense!--Anton!"--he called
loudly,--"order the tarantas to be harnessed up immediately. Yes,"--he
meditated once more,--"I must command myself to hold my tongue, I must
keep a tight rein on myself."...
With such arguments did Lavretzky strive to alleviate his grief; but it
was great and powerful; and even Apraxyeya, who had outlived not so much
her mind as every feeling, even Apraxyeya shook her head, and
sorrowfully followed him with her eyes, when he seated himself in the
tarantas, in order to drive to the town. The horses galloped off; he sat
motionless and upright, and stared impassively ahead along the road.