The Complete Works of Leo Tolstoy (25+ Works with active table of contents)

by Leo Tolstoy

  'How is it that you have come back earlier than you said?' asked Sergius. 'Can I speak to you now?'

  'How is it that I have the happiness to receive such a guest? I have missed one of my lessons. That can wait . . . I had always been planning to go to see you. I wrote to you, and now this good fortune has come.'

  'Pashenka, please listen to what I am going to tell you as to a confession made to God at my last hour. Pashenka, I am not a holy man, I am not even as good as a simple ordinary man; I am a loathsome, vile, and proud sinner who has gone astray, and who, if not worse than everyone else, is at least worse than most very bad people.'

  Pashenka looked at him at first with staring eyes. But she believed what he said, and when she had quite grasped it she touched his hand, smiling pityingly, and said:

  'Perhaps you exaggerate, Stiva?'

  'No, Pashenka. I am an adulterer, a murderer, a blasphemer, and a deceiver.'

  'My God! How is that?' exclaimed Praskovya Mikhaylovna.

  'But I must go on living. And I, who thought I knew everything, who taught others how to live--I know nothing and ask you to teach me.'

  'What are you saying, Stiva? You are laughing at me. Why do you always make fun of me?'

  'Well, if you think I am jesting you must have it as you please. But tell me all the same how you live, and how you have lived your life.'

  'I? I have lived a very nasty, horrible life, and now God is punishing me as I deserve. I live so wretchedly, so wretchedly . . .'

  'How was it with your marriage? How did you live with your husband?'

  'It was all bad. I married because I fell in love in the nastiest way. Papa did not approve. But I would not listen to anything and just got married. Then instead of helping my husband I tormented him by my jealousy, which I could not restrain.'

  'I heard that he drank . . .'

  'Yes, but I did not give him any peace. I always reproached him, though you know it is a disease! He could not refrain from it. I now remember how I tried to prevent his having it, and the frightful scenes we had!'

  And she looked at Kasatsky with beautiful eyes, suffering from the remembrance.

  Kasatsky remembered how he had been told that Pashenka's husband used to beat her, and now, looking at her thin withered neck with prominent veins behind her ears, and her scanty coil of hair, half grey half auburn, he seemed to see just how it had occurred.

  'Then I was left with two children and no means at all.'

  'But you had an estate!'

  'Oh, we sold that while Vasya was still alive, and the money was all spent. We had to live, and like all our young ladies I did not know how to earn anything. I was particularly useless and helpless. So we spent all we had. I taught the children and improved my own education a little. And then Mitya fell ill when he was already in the fourth form, and God took him. Masha fell in love with Vanya, my son-in-law. And--well, he is well-meaning but unfortunate. He is ill.'

  'Mamma!'--her daughter's voice interrupted her--'Take Mitya! I can't be in two places at once.'

  Praskovya Mikhaylovna shuddered, but rose and went out of the room, stepping quickly in her patched shoes. She soon came back with a boy of two in her arms, who threw himself backwards and grabbed at her shawl with his little hands.

  'Where was I? Oh yes, he had a good appointment here, and his chief was a kind man too. But Vanya could not go on, and had to give up his position.'

  'What is the matter with him?'

  'Neurasthenia--it is a dreadful complaint. We consulted a doctor, who told us he ought to go away, but we had no means. . . . I always hope it will pass of itself. He has no particular pain, but . . .'

  'Lukerya!' cried an angry and feeble voice. 'She is always sent away when I want her. Mamma . . .'

  'I'm coming!' Praskovya Mikhaylovna again interrupted herself. 'He has not had his dinner yet. He can't eat with us.'

  She went out and arranged something, and came back wiping her thin dark hands.

  'So that is how I live. I always complain and am always dissatisfied, but thank God the grandchildren are all nice and healthy, and we can still live. But why talk about me?'

  'But what do you live on?'

  'Well, I earn a little. How I used to dislike music, but how useful it is to me now!' Her small hand lay on the chest of drawers beside which she was sitting, and she drummed an exercise with her thin fingers.

  'How much do you get for a lesson?'

  'Sometimes a ruble, sometimes fifty kopeks, or sometimes thirty. They are all so kind to me.'

  'And do your pupils get on well?' asked Kasatsky with a slight smile.

  Praskovya Mikhaylovna did not at first believe that he was asking seriously, and looked inquiringly into his eyes.

  'Some of them do. One of them is a splendid girl--the butcher's daughter--such a good kind girl! If I were a clever woman I ought, of course, with the connexions Papa had, to be able to get an appointment for my son-in-law. But as it is I have not been able to do anything, and have brought them all to this--as you see.'

  'Yes, yes,' said Kasatsky, lowering his head. 'And how is it, Pashenka--do you take part in Church life?'

  'Oh, don't speak of it. I am so bad that way, and have neglected it so! I keep the fasts with the children and sometimes go to church, and then again sometimes I don't go for months. I only send the children.'

  'But why don't you go yourself?'

  'To tell the truth' (she blushed) 'I am ashamed, for my daughter's sake and the children's, to go there in tattered clothes, and I haven't anything else. Besides, I am just lazy.'

  'And do you pray at home?'

  'I do. But what sort of prayer is it? Only mechanical. I know it should not be like that, but I lack real religious feeling. The only thing is that I know how bad I am . . .'

  'Yes, yes, that's right!' said Kasatsky, as if approvingly.

  'I'm coming! I'm coming!' she replied to a call from her son-in-law, and tidying her scanty plait she left the room.

  But this time it was long before she returned. When she came back, Kasatsky was sitting in the same position, his elbows resting on his knees and his head bowed. But his wallet was strapped on his back.

  When she came in, carrying a small tin lamp without a shade, he raised his fine weary eyes and sighed very deeply.

  'I did not tell them who you are,' she began timidly. 'I only said that you are a pilgrim, a nobleman, and that I used to know you. Come into the dining-room for tea.'

  'No . . .'

  'Well then, I'll bring some to you here.'

  'No, I don't want anything. God bless you, Pashenka! I am going now. If you pity me, don't tell anyone that you have seen me. For the love of God don't tell anyone. Thank you. I would bow to your feet but I know it would make you feel awkward. Thank you, and forgive me for Christ's sake!'

  'Give me your blessing.'

  'God bless you! Forgive me for Christ's sake!'

  He rose, but she would not let him go until she had given him bread and butter and rusks. He took it all and went away.

  It was dark, and before he had passed the second house he was lost to sight. She only knew he was there because the dog at the priest's house was barking.

  'So that is what my dream meant! Pashenka is what I ought to have been but failed to be. I lived for men on the pretext of living for God, while she lived for God imagining that she lives for men. Yes, one good deed--a cup of water given without thought of reward--is worth more than any benefit I imagined I was bestowing on people. But after all was there not some share of sincere desire to serve God?' he asked himself, and the answer was: 'Yes, there was, but it was all soiled and overgrown by desire for human praise. Yes, there is no God for the man who lives, as I did, for human praise. I will now seek Him!'

  And he walked from village to village as he had done on his way to Pashenka, meeting and parting from other pilgrims, men and women, and asking for bread and a night's rest in Christ's name. Occasionally some angry housewife scolded him, or a drunke
n peasant reviled him, but for the most part he was given food and drink and even something to take with him. His noble bearing disposed some people in his favour, while others on the contrary seemed pleased at the sight of a gentleman who had come to beggary.

  But his gentleness prevailed with everyone.

  Often, finding a copy of the Gospels in a hut he would read it aloud, and when they heard him the people were always touched and surprised, as at something new yet familiar.

  When he succeeded in helping people, either by advice, or by his knowledge of reading and writing, or by settling some quarrel, he did not wait to see their gratitude but went away directly afterwards. And little by little God began to reveal Himself within him.

  Once he was walking along with two old women and a soldier. They were stopped by a party consisting of a lady and gentleman in a gig and another lady and gentleman on horseback. The husband was on horseback with his daughter, while in the gig his wife was driving with a Frenchman, evidently a traveller.

  The party stopped to let the Frenchman see the pilgrims who, in accord with a popular Russian superstition, tramped about from place to place instead of working.

  They spoke French, thinking that the others would not understand them.

  'Demandez-leur,' said the Frenchman, 's'ils sont bien sur de ce que leur pelerinage est agreable a Dieu.'

  The question was asked, and one old woman replied:

  'As God takes it. Our feet have reached the holy places, but our hearts may not have done so.'

  They asked the soldier. He said that he was alone in the world and had nowhere else to go.

  They asked Kasatsky who he was.

  'A servant of God.'

  'Qu'est-ce qu'il dit? Il ne repond pas.'

  'Il dit qu'il est un serviteur de Dieu. Cela doit etre un fils de preetre. Il a de la race. Avez-vous de la petite monnaie?'

  The Frenchman found some small change and gave twenty kopeks to each of the pilgrims.

  'Mais dites-leur que ce n'est pas pour les cierges que je leur donne, mais pour qu'ils se regalent de the. Chay, chay pour vous, mon vieux!' he said with a smile. And he patted Kasatsky on the shoulder with his gloved hand.

  'May Christ bless you,' replied Kasatsky without replacing his cap and bowing his bald head.

  He rejoiced particularly at this meeting, because he had disregarded the opinion of men and had done the simplest, easiest thing--humbly accepted twenty kopeks and given them to his comrade, a blind beggar. The less importance he attached to the opinion of men the more did he feel the presence of God within him.

  For eight months Kasatsky tramped on in this manner, and in the ninth month he was arrested for not having a passport. This happened at a night-refuge in a provincial town where he had passed the night with some pilgrims. He was taken to the police-station, and when asked who he was and where was his passport, he replied that he had no passport and that he was a servant of God. He was classed as a tramp, sentenced, and sent to live in Siberia.

  In Siberia he has settled down as the hired man of a well-to-do peasant, in which capacity he works in the kitchen-garden, teaches children, and attends to the sick.

  The First Distiller

  ACT I

  PEASANT [ploughing. Looks up] It's noon. Time to unharness. Gee up, get along! Fagged out? Poor old beast! One more turn and back again, that will be the last furrow, and then dinner. It was a good idea to bring that chunk of bread with me. I'll not go home, but sit down by the well and have a bite and a rest, and Peggy can graze awhile. Then, with God's help, to work again, and the ploughing will be done in good time.

  Enter Imp; hides behind a bush.

  IMP. See what a good fellow he is! Keeps calling on God. Wait a bit, friend,--you'll be calling on the Devil before long! I'll just take away his chunk. He'll miss it before long, and will begin to hunt for it. He'll be hungry, and then he'll swear and call on the Devil.

  Takes the chunk of bread and sits down behind the bush watching to see what the Peasant will do.

  PEASANT [unharnesses the horse] With God's blessing! [Lets the horse loose, and goes towards the place where his coat is lying] I'm awfully hungry. The wife cut a big chunk, but see if I don't eat it all. [Coming up to the coat] Gone! I must have put it under the coat. [Lifting the coat] No, it's not here either! What has happened? [Shakes the coat].

  IMP [behind the bush] Go on, go on, search away! I've got it safe!

  PEASANT [moves the plough and shakes his coat again] This is strange! Very strange! No one was here, yet the chunk is gone! If the birds had been at it there would be some crumbs left, but there's not a single crumb! No one has been here, and yet some one has taken it!

  IMP [rises and looks out] Now he'll call on the Devil.

  PEASANT. Well, it seems there's no help for it! Never mind, I shan't starve to death. If some one has taken it, he's taken it; let him eat it, and may it do him good.

  IMP [spits] Oh, the damned peasant! Instead of swearing properly, he only says, "May it do him good." What can one do with such a fellow?

  Peasant lies down to rest, makes the sign of the cross, yawns, and falls asleep.

  IMP [comes out from behind the bush] It's all very well for the boss to talk. The boss keeps on saying, "You don't bring enough peasants to Hell! See what a lot of tradesmen, gentlefolk, and all sorts of people flock in every day, and how few peasants!" Now, how's one to get round this one? There's no way of getting hold of him. Haven't I stolen his last crust? What can I do better than that? And yet he didn't swear. I'm at my wits' end what to do! Well, I must go and report!

  Disappears into the ground.

  Curtain.

  ACT II

  Hell. The Chief of the Devils sits in the highest place. The Devil's Secretary sits lower down, at a table with writing materials. Sentinels stand at each side. To the right are five Imps of different kinds. To the left, by the door, the Doorkeeper. A dandified Imp stands before the Chief.

  THE DANDY IMP. The whole of my booty for the three years has been 220,005 men. They're all in my power now.

  THE CHIEF. All right. Thank you. Pass on.

  The Dandy Imp goes to the right.

  THE CHIEF [to the Secretary] I'm tired! Is there much business left? Whose reports have we had, and whose are still to come?

  THE SECRETARY [counts on his fingers and, as he counts, points to the Imps to the right. When he mentions any Imp, the one referred to bows] We've had the Gentlefolks' Devil's report. He's captured 1836 in all. And the Tradesmen's Devil's with 9643. From the Lawyers', 3423. The Women's we've also just had: 186,315 married women, and 17,438 maids. Only two Devils are left, the Officials' and the Peasants'. There are altogether 220,005 souls on the list.

  CHIEF. Well then, we'd better finish it all to-day. [To the Doorkeeper] Let them in!

  The Officials' Devil enters, and bows to the Chief.

  CHIEF. Well, how have you got on?

  OFFICIALS' IMP [laughing, and rubbing his hands] My affairs are all right, just as soot they are white! The booty is such that I don't remember anything like it since the creation of the world.

  CHIEF. What, have you captured a great many?

  OFFICIALS' IMP. It's not so much the quantity. Only 1350 men in all, but such splendid fellows! Such fellows, they might shame any Devil! They can embroil people better than we ourselves can. I've introduced a new fashion among them.

  CHIEF. What's that new fashion?

  OFFICIALS' IMP. Why, in former times lawyers were in attendance on the judges and deceived people. Now, I've arranged for them to do business also apart from the judges. Whoever pays most, is the one to whose business they attend. And they'll take such trouble over it that they'll make out a case where there is none! They and the officials between them embroil people far better than we Devils can.

  CHIEF. All right. I'll have a look at them. You may pass on.

  The Officials' Imp goes to the right.

  CHIEF [to Doorkeeper] Let in the last one.

  En
ter the Peasants' Imp with the chunk of bread. He bows to the ground.

  PEASANTS' IMP. I can't live like this any longer! Give me another appointment!

  CHIEF. What appointment? What are you jabbering about? Get up and talk sense. Give in your report! How many peasants have you captured this week?

  PEASANTS' IMP [crying] Not one!

  CHIEF. What? Not one! What do you mean? What have you been doing? Where have you been loafing?

  PEASANTS' IMP [whimpering] I've not been loafing; I've been straining every nerve all the time, but I can't do anything! There now, I went and took his last crust from under the very nose of one of them, and, instead of swearing, he wished it might do me good!