Classic Audiobook Collection - Family Happiness by Leo Tolstoy ~ Full Audiobook [drama]

Episode Date: February 16, 2023

Family Happiness by Leo Tolstoy audiobook. Genre: drama In Family Happiness, Leo Tolstoy tells the intimate coming-of-age story of Masha, a motherless young woman growing up on a quiet Russian estate under the kindly guidance of her guardian, the reserved landowner Sergei Mikhailovich. When affection deepens into a sudden, life-altering proposal, Masha enters marriage with bright, romantic expectations and the hope that love will be enough to shape a complete, lasting happiness. But as the couple moves between the calm rhythms of country life and the glittering social whirl of the city, Masha confronts new temptations, shifting desires, and the unsettling realization that devotion can be tested not only by betrayal, but by boredom, pride, and miscommunication. Tolstoy follows the subtle changes in feeling that occur when passion settles into routine, when youth longs for admiration, and when two people discover that they may not be seeking the same kind of joy. Written with psychological precision and quiet emotional force, this novella explores marriage as both refuge and challenge, asking what it truly means to build a shared life when love must grow up alongside the lovers. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 1 (00:13:31) Chapter 2 (00:32:19) Chapter 3 (00:53:34) Chapter 4 (01:10:21) Chapter 5 (01:28:31) Chapter 6 (01:53:28) Chapter 7 (02:14:45) Chapter 8 (02:36:51) Chapter 9 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

family happiness by leo tolstoy part one chapter one sonya and i were in mourning for our mother who had died in the autumn and we had spent the whole winter in the country alone with katya kattya was an old family friend our governess who had brought all of us up and whom i had known and loved ever since my memory began sonya was my younger sister the winter at our old house in pokrovskoia was dreary and forlorn the weather had been cold and blustery so that the snow were heaped high above our windows. The pains were almost constantly covered with frost so that nothing could be seen out of them. We had been kept housed almost all the time. It was rare that any friends came to see us, and if they did, they brought no increase of joy or cheer to our home. All wore long faces and spoke with subdued voices as though afraid of awakening someone. All refrained from laughing, but they sighed and often shed tears and looked solemnly at me,

and especially at little Sonia, in a black frock. The presence of death still seemed to be felt in the house. The grief and horror of death were in the very atmosphere. Mama's chamber was shut up, and I felt a sensation of pain and also a strange impulse to look into that cold and empty chamber when I passed by it on my way to bed. At that time I was 17, and Mama, the very year that she died, was intending to move to the city for the sake of bringing me out.

The loss of my mother was a terrible grief for me, but I must confess that there was associated with it the feeling that I was young and pretty, for everybody told me so, and that it was a pity to have wasted another winter alone in the country. Before the end of winter, this painful sense of loneliness and tedium increased to such a degree that I refused to leave my room. I kept the piano shut and never took up a book. When Cartier advised me to do this thing or that, I replied, I don't wish to, I can't, and the question arose in my soul, why? Why do anything when the best days of my life are thus going to waste. Why? And to this question there was no other answer than tears. They told me that I was

growing thin and losing my beauty, but even that made no difference to me. Why? Who was to see? It seemed to me that my whole life was destined to be spent in this dull solitude and helpless gloom, from which I had no power or even desire to make my escape. Toward the end of the winter, Katya began to worry about me, and resolved when the opportunity offered to take me abroad. But in order to do this we needed money, and we had a very dim idea of what our mother had left us, and therefore we waited from day to day for our guardian to come and settle up our affairs. In March, he came. Now thank the Lord, said Katya to me, one day, as I was wandering about from room to room like a shadow, idle, listless, aimless. Sergei Mikhailich has come.

He sends to inquire after us, and we'll be here to dinner. Come now, show a little energy, my dear Masha, she added. Otherwise, what will he think of you? He's so fond of you both. Sertigir Mikhailich was a dear neighbour of ours, and a friend of our late father, though he was much his junior. Not only would his coming change all our plans and enable us to leave the country, but from childhood I had been accustomed to love and honour him. And so when Katya advised me to show a little energy, she knew very well that it would mortify me more to appear in an unfavourable light before him than before any other of our friends. Moreover, not only did I share the traditional attachment for him felt by everyone in the house,

from Katya and Sonia, whose godfather he was, down to the stable boy, but in my eyes he had a special interest, owing to a word which my mother had dropped in my hearing. She had said that she would like nothing better than to find such a man as a husband for me. At that time her word struck me as strange and disagreeable, for my hero was quite a different sort of man. My idea was graceful, slender, pale and melancholy, while Sergei Mikhailich was no longer young, was tall and stout and as it seemed to me always cheerful still these words of mamish has struck my imagination six years before when i was eleven he had addressed me by the familiar to thou

had a romp with me and called me little maid violet and ever since i had occasionally asked myself not without dread what i should do if he suddenly asked me to become his wife before dinner for which katya had prepared a cream pie and a spinach sauce sergey mikhailich arrived from the window i saw him drive up toward the house in his light sleigh, but as soon as he disappeared around the corner, I hastened into the reception room, wishing to make it appear that I was not anxiously awaiting for him. But as soon as I heard the sound of his feet and his hearty voice and Katya's steps, I could not refrain from running out to meet him. He was holding Katya by the hand and talking in his deep voice. A smile was on his face. When he saw me, he paused and gazed at me for some little time without bowing. I felt awkward and was conscious that the colour was. was rising in my face.

"'Ah, is that really you?' he exclaimed, in his simple, straightforward manner, holding out his hands and coming towards me. "'Can it be possible you have changed so much? "'How you've grown! Where is my violet gone? "'Now you are a full-blown rose!' "'He took my hand in his big hand, "'pressed it so firmly, so heartily that it almost hurt me. "'I supposed he was going to kiss it, and I bent toward him,

"'but he merely pressed it again and looked straight into my eyes "'with his frank, merry glance. "'I had not seen him. him for six years he had changed much had grown older and darker and now wore side-whiskers that were very unbecoming to him but he had the same unaffected manners a frank honourable face with large features intelligent brilliant eyes and an affectionate almost childlike smile in five minutes he had ceased to become a stranger and all of us looked upon him as though he were a member of the family even the servants who seemed delighted at his coming as was evident by their desire to serve him his behaviour was entirely different from that of the neighbours who came after Mammash's death, and who felt constrained to speak in whispers and to shed tears while they were in the house. He was talkative and jolly and did not say a word about Mother, so that at first this apparent indifference struck me as strange,

and even unbecoming, in a man who had been so intimate with our family. But afterwards I discovered that it was not indifference, but sincerity, and I was grateful to him for it. In the evening, Katya sat down, in Mamash's old place in the parlour to pour the tea. Sonia and I took our seats near her, old Grigori brought him one of Papa's pipes that had been put away, and just as in days gone by he began to walk up and down the room. How many terrible changes in this house when you come to think of it, he exclaimed and stopped short. Yes, said Katya with a sigh, and putting the cover on the samovar, she looked at him, and almost burst into tears. And I suppose you remember your father, he asked, turning to me. A little, I replied. And how much you would be to each other now, he

continued, looking gently and thoughtfully at my forehead and hair. Your father was a very dear friend of mine, he added, in a still gentler voice, and it seemed to me that his eyes became more luminous than ever. Well, it seemed good to God to take her also, rejoined Katya, and immediately she laid her napkin on the teapot, took out her handkerchief, and began to sob. Yes, terrible changes in this home, he repeated, turning away. Sonia, show me your toys, he added, in a moment or two, and went into the drawing room. With my eyes brimming with tears, I looked at Katya as he went out. Such a splendid friend,

was her answer. And in truth, I felt a sensation of warmth and comfort around my heart at the thought of this good friend. As we sat in the parlour, we heard Sonia's piping voice and his merry rumping with her. I poured out his tea and heard him sit down to the piano and begin to touch the keys with Sonia's little fingers. Maria Alexandrovna, I heard him say, come here and play me something. I liked the simple and friendly way in which he laid his commands upon me. I got up and went to him. Here, play this, said he, opening the copy of Beethoven to the adagio of the Moonlight Sonata. Let us see how you play, he added, and went with his glass of tea into the corner of the room. For some reason I felt that with him it was useless to refuse or to make excuses for playing badly.

I sat down obediently at the piano and tried to play to the best of my ability, though I was afraid of his criticism, for I knew that he understood and loved music. The adagio corresponded with the sentiment of the reminisces awakened at the tea table, and I imagined that I played tolerably well, but he did not ask me to play the skerzo. No, you wouldn't play that well, said he, coming up to the piano. No matter about it, but you didn't play the first badly. You must have some comprehension of music. This praise, which was certainly not extravagant, so delighted me that I blushed.

It was such a novel and pleasant experience for me that a friend and equal of my father should talk seriously with me as though i were worthy of his notice and no longer as with a child as used to be the case katya went upstairs and put sonya to bed and we two remained in the drawing-room he told me about my father and what a bond of sympathy united them and what a happy life they led in those days when i was a mere child amusing myself with picture-books and dolls and his stories made me see my father for the first time in the light of a simple-hearted and lovable man such as i had never thought of him before he also asked me about my tastes my reading and my ambitions and gave me advice he was now no longer merely a merry jesting playmate teasing me and making toys for me but a grave earnest and lovable man to whom i felt involuntarily drawn through affection and sympathy while i talked with him i felt perfectly at my ease and enjoyed it but at the same time i could not help feeling a certain strain upon me i was afraid for every word that i spoke i had a strong desire to be worthy of his affection which hitherto had been given to me simply because i was my father's daughter after putting sonya to bed gartier rejoined us and complained to him of my apathy of which i had said nothing it seems then she has failed to tell me the principal thing he said with a smile and shaking his head reproachfully at me why speak of it said i it is very stupid and besides it will pass away it actually seemed to me that at that moment my sense of lassitude not only would pass away but that it had already passed away and that i had never suffered from it it's unfortunate not to be able to endure solitude said he "'An't you a grown-up young lady?'

"'Of course I am,' said I with a laugh. "'Well, she's a poor kind of young lady who is lively only while she's admired, "'and, as soon as she is alone, loses her spirits and takes no interest in anything. "'All for mere show and nothing for reality.' "'You have a fine opinion of me,' said I, for the sake of saying something. "'No,' said he, after a little silence. "'It is not all in vain that you look like your father. "'There's something in you, and again his kind, penetrating eyes gave me a flattering look

and filled me with a strangely agreeable confusion. Now, for the first time I noticed that his face, which had impressed me as being so jovial, had a look peculiar to himself, serene at first but afterwards becoming more and more thoughtful, and even rather gloomy. There is no reason and no propriety in your being downhearted, said he. You have your music which you understand,

your books, and your whole life lies before you, and now is the only time in which you can prepare yourself for it, so that you will have nothing to regret. In a year it may be too late. he talked to me like a father or an uncle and i was conscious that he had constantly to exercise self-control not to look down on me i felt offended that he considered me beneath him and at the same time it pleased me that he found it worthwhile for my sake and my sake alone to make an effort to show his friendship in this way the rest of the evening he talked business with katya well good-bye my dear friends said he getting up and coming over to me and taking me by the hand when shall we see you again inquired katya this spring was his reply he still held my hand now i'm going to danilovka that was our other estate i shall look into your affairs there and make what arrangements i can then i am going to moscow on some business of my own and then in the summer we shall be here again now why must you be gone so long i asked feeling terribly blue in fact i had hoped that we should see him every day and suddenly i felt so depressed and sad that all my former unhappiness seemed to return this must have been expressed in my eyes and voice

try and busy yourself as much as you can and don't get down-hearted said he in a tone which seemed to me altogether too cool and natural when spring comes i shall make you pass your examination he added dropping my hand and not looking at me in the ante-room where he was standing while he put on his shubber again his eyes seemed to search me it's no use for him to take so much trouble said i to myself i wonder if he thinks i like to have him stare at me in that way he is an excellent man very but if only for a wonder it was very late when katya and i went to bed and we talked all the evening not about him but about how we should spend the coming summer and where or how we should live next winter my bugbear of a question why did not recur to me it seemed to me very simple and clear that one ought to live to be happy and i imagined that the future would bring much happiness suddenly as it were our pockrovsky house so old and gloomy presented itself to my imagination overflowing with life and light End of Part 1, Chapter 1. Part 1, Chapter 2 of Family Happiness. This is a Librevox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain.

For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librivox.org. Family Happiness by Leo Tolstoy, translated by Nathan Haskell Doll. Part 1, Chapter 2 Spring had now come. My former depression was gone and its place was occupied by the dreamy melancholy of springtime and by vague hopes and desires. Though I lived in a healthier way than at the beginning of the winter, and occupied myself with my sister Sonia and music and reading, still I used often to go into the garden and wander long, long, up and down the paths, or sit on the bench,

my mind filled with all sorts of thoughts, hopes and desires. Sometimes, especially when there was a moon, I would sit at the window of, of my room all night long, and when morning came I would throw on a single garment and often go, without waking Katya, down into the garden and across the dewy grass to the pond. Once I even went out into the field, and, alone and in the night, I made the entire circuit of the garden. Now it is hard for me to recall and understand the illusions which at that time filled my imagination. Even when I succeed, I can scarcely believe that my dreams were made of such stuff. They were so strange and remote from the reality.

toward the end of may sergey mikhailich returned as he had promised his first call was toward evening and he took us entirely by surprise we were sitting on the terrace and preparing to drink tea the garden was already clothed in green and the nightingale made their haunt in every thicket on our place the tufted branches of the lilac bushes were everywhere covered with white and purple with a hint of flowers on the point of bursting into bloom the foliage of the linden alley was translucent in the setting sun a fresh cool shadow lay across the the terrace, the grass was already wet with the heavy fall of evening dew. In the backyard of the garden were heard the last sounds of day, the bustle of the cattle driven in from pasture. The simple-minded Nickon crossed in front of the terrace along the little path with his watering pot, and the cooling stream from the nozzle soon began to make the broken soil dark around the stems of the dahlias and their supports. Near us on the terrace, on a white cloth, stood the brightly polished samovar, bubbling and boiling together with cream, buns and cold meat.

Katya, with her plump hands, was dipping the teacups like a careful housewife. I could not wait for my tea, for I was hungry after my bath and was eating a piece of bread, spread with thick, fresh cream. I had on a gingham blouse with flowing sleeves, and my wet hair was covered with a handkerchief. Katia was the first to see him through the window. Ah, Sir de Gein Mikhailich, we were only just talking about you. I jumped up and was going to run upstairs in order to change my dress, but he met me just as I was at the door.

Now what is the use of ceremony in the country, said he? glancing with a smile at my head in the handkerchief. You see, you are not ashamed to wear it before Grigori, and I am no more than Grigori. But at that very instant it seemed to me that he looked at me in a way that Grigori would never have thought of doing, and I felt ill at ease. I'll be right back, said I, hastening to draw away from him.

What's the harm as you are, he cried after me. You're quite like a young peasant girl. How strangely he looked at me, said I to myself, as I hurriedly dressed myself upstairs. Well, thank God he's come. Now it will be more lively. After a hasty glance at the mirror I gaily ran downstairs, and, without disguising the fact that I'd hurried, I went on to the terrace all out of breath. He was sitting at the table and telling Katya about our affairs.

When he saw me, he smiled and went on talking. According to him, our affairs were in a satisfactory condition. It was necessary for us merely to spend the summer in the country, and then we could go for Sonia's education either to Petersburg or abroad. Well, now, if you could only be with us while we were abroad, said Katya. But if we must be by ourselves, it would be worse than being in the woods. Oh, how glad I should be to go around the world with you, he said, half serious, half in jest. All right, said I, let us go round the world. He smiled and shook his head. But how about my mother and my affairs, said he? Well, as that is out of the question, now tell me, please. How have you been spending your time? Have you been blue anymore? When I told him that since he had been gone,

I had done this and that, and had not been troubled with depression. And when Katya corroborated, my words, he praised me, and both his words and his looks were flattering as though I were a child, and he had the right to patronise me. It seemed to me necessary to give him a faithful and circumstantial account of all that I had done in the right direction, and to confess, as though before a priest, all that he might not approve. The evening was so warm and pleasant that, after the tea things had been carried away, we still sat on the terrace, and the conversation was so full of meaning for me that I did not notice how, little by little, the sounds of the people about us had done. died away. From all sides arose more fragrantly the perfumes of the flowers. The abundant dew

was falling on the sward. The nightingale, trilling in the bushes near us, hushed his song when he heard our voices. The starry sky seemed to bend down nearer to us. It was only when a bat noiselessly flitted under the awning over the terrace and fluttered about my white shawl that I suddenly noticed that it was already dark. I huddled close to the wall and was opening my mouth to scream, but the bat, the same swift, noiseless flight, darted out from under the awning and disappeared in the darkness of the garden. How I like your Pekrovskaya, said he, making a sudden change in the conversation. I should like to spend my whole life sitting here on this terrace. Well then, why not sit here, suggested Katya.

That is very well, he went on, but life does not sit still. Why don't you get married? asked Katya. You would make anyone a splendid husband. Why? Because I like a quiet life, thank you, and he laughed. No, Katerina Kattelovna. There's no hope for you and me. Long ago all my friends ceased to regard me as a marrying man. And all the more, for this reason, I've come to the conclusion that it is best this way.

That's a fact. It seemed to me that he said that with a sort of affected gaiety in his manner. Indeed, that's good. You've lived all of 36 years in a tired of life, said Katya. Ah, but how much I've gone through, he continued. My only wish is to live a quiet life. But to get married, something else is necessary. Ask her, he went on to say, pointing to me.

It is for such girls as she to get married, and you and I will look on and rejoice in their happiness. There was an undertone of sadness in his voice, and an intensity which did not escape my attention. He was silent for a little while, and neither Katya nor I said a word. Now, just conceive of such a thing, he went on, turning around on his chair, supposing I should suddenly, by some unfortunate chance, marry some maiden of seventeen, such a girl as Maria Alexandrovna. that's an admiral illustration i'm very glad that i found such a happy one i laughed and could not see any reason for his gladness at such an illustration or where its application lay now said he addressing me in a bantering tone tell me honestly your hand on your heart would it not be a trial for you to marry an old man who has lived out all his days whose only desire is a quiet life while life and move into what you want i felt awkward and made no answer not knowing what to say now see here this must not be taken as an offer said he smiling but truly tell me is it of such a husband that you dream when you wander about the garden path's afternoons or would you be unhappy with such a one no not unhappy i began nor yet contented said he taking the words out of my mouth yes but you see i may be miss but again he interrupted me

well now you see she's perfectly right and i'm so grateful to her for her frankness and glad that we could have had this talk now as far as i'm concerned such a marriage would be the greatest unhappiness he added what a queer man you are you haven't changed in the least said katya as she went in from the terrace to order the supper. After she left us we sat in silence, around us not a sound was heard, except that the nighting girl, not now in fitful snatches, as his habit is earlier in the afternoon, but with deliberate calmness,

since now it was already night, poured out his plant all over the garden, and another down in the ravine below, for the first time this spring replied to him from afar. The one nearest to us seemed to be listening for a moment, and still clearer and more intensely rang out the liquid harmonious drill, and with sovereign calmness their songs resounded in this world of night, so peculiarly their own, so strange to us. The gardener went to the greenhouse to sleep, the sound of his heavy boots

growing fainter and fainter along the paths. Someone gave a shrill whistle twice at the foot of the hill, and then there was silence again. The foliage scarcely rustled, the canvas awning over the terrace stirred a little, and a delicious fragrance was wafted across the terrace. It seemed to me awkward to sit in silence after what had been said. But I now was at a loss for something to say. I looked at him. His eyes gleaming in the darkness were fixed upon me. It is good to be alive in the world, said he. For some reason I sighed. What is it? Yes, indeed, it is good to be alive in the world, said I, echoing his words. Again we relapsed into silence, and again I felt a sense of constraint. It occurred to me that I had offended him by agreeing with him that he was an old man,

and I was anxious to soothe him, but I did not know how to do so. well good-bye he said getting up mother is expecting me home to supper i've scarcely seen her to-day but i wanted to play my new sonata to you said i some other time said he coolly as it seemed to me good-bye it now more than ever seemed to me that i had offended him and i felt sorry gathier and i escorted him to the porch and we stood in the yard looking down the road where he was soon lost to sight as soon as the sound of his horse's feet died away i went around the garden and began once more to gaze down into the garden and in the dewy darkness which muffled the sounds of night long i saw and heard all that fancy made me see and hear he came a second and a third time and the constraint arising from our strange conversation entirely wore away and and did not return. As the summer went on, he rode over to see us two or three times a week, and I became so accustomed to his visits that when any unusual length of time elapsed, without our seeing him, I became lonesome, and was vexed with him for treating me so unfairly. He behaved toward me as toward a dear young comrade, asked me questions,

encouraged the most cordial frankness, gave me advice, stimulated me, sometimes scolded me and checked me. But in spite of all his endeavour to keep himself down on a level with me, I was conscious that, back of what was manifest to me in him, there lay a whole world into which he felt necessary to admit me, and it was this which had the greatest influence upon my imagination and attracted me to him. I understood from Kathya and our neighbours that, over and above his care for his aged mother, with whom he lived, over and above his responsibilities as a landed proprietor, and as our guardian, he had to exercise certain functions connected with nobility which were most distasteful to him. But how he looked upon all this and what his plans can

convictions and hope were, I never could get the slightest intimation from him. As soon as I led the conversation around to his own affairs, he frowned in his characteristic manner as much to say, please, I beg of you, this does not concern you, and brought up some other topic of conversation. At first this offended me, but afterwards I became so accustomed to talking about matters concerning myself alone that it seemed quite natural. Another thing that used at first to displease me, but afterwards came to be even pleasant, was his perfect indifference and apparent contempt for my personal appearance, never by a look or a word did he hint that I was pretty, but on the contrary he frowned or smiled when I was called pretty in his presence. He even took pains to pick out my defects and banter me on the subject

of them. The fashionable dresses and the way in which Katya liked to do up my hair for festive occasions aroused merely his sarcastic comments, which hurt the good Katya's feelings, and at first disconcerted me. Katya, who was convinced in her own mind that I pleased him, could not understand at all why he did not like the woman who pleased him to appear in the most attractive light, but I quickly came to see what he wanted. He was anxious to feel assured that I was free from coquetry. And when I understood that, then I made it evident that there was not a shadow of coquetry about me,

in my dress or my hair or my actions. But this very thing showed like an embroidery in white worsted that I had the coquetry of artless simplicity at a time when as yet artlessness was not natural to me. I was aware that he loved me, but whether as a child or a woman I did not ask myself, I prized his love and, being conscious that he can be. considered me the very best girl in the world, I could not help hoping that he might still persist in this illusion, and I involuntarily helped to deceive him. But the very act of deceiving him in this way made me better. I felt how much wiser and nobler it was for me to show the better side of my soul than of my body. My hair, my hands, my face, my manners. Whatever they were, good or bad, it seemed to me he understood and appreciated at a glance. So I could not add anything to my battery of attractions, even if I desired to deceive. But my soul, he did not know, because he loved it.

and because it was all the time expanding and developing, and thus it was that I could and did deceive him. And how easy it was to manage him when I clearly understood this. The causeless disturbances which had troubled me before, especially the sense of awkwardness, entirely disappeared. I had the consciousness that, no matter how he saw me, whether from front face or in profile, whether sitting or standing, whether my hair was up or down, he knew me thoroughly, and, as it seemed to me, was satisfied with me as I was. I'm certain that if, contrary to his habit, he had followed the example of others and told me that I was pretty, I should not have been in the least delighted, but on the other hand how happy and light-hearted I was when, after some insignificant remark of mine, he looked steadily at me and said, in a voice that trembled a little, in spite of his attempt to impart a bantering tone, yes, yes, there is something in you. You are a splendid girl, I must tell you so. And why was it then that I received a reward such as filled my heart with pride and joy? Because, I said that I appreciated the love of old Grigory for his little granddaughter, or because I was

moved to tears by reading some poetry or novel, or because I preferred Mozart to Schulhof, and the preternatural keenness of intuition, by which at that time I selected what was good, and worthy of admiration, struck me as marvellous, and yet assuredly I was perfectly ignorant of such things. The most of my former habits and tastes did not please him, and a slight raising of his brow or a quick glance was all that it was needed to show that he did not like what it was on my tongue to say, and his peculiarly woe-begone and almost scornful expression made me feel that I detested what I loved before. A hint was sufficient to give me a presentiment of what he was going to say to me,

who would ask me a question and look into my eyes, and that look of his suffice to draw from me the thought which he was after. All my thoughts and feelings at that time were his, not mine, but by becoming mine they went to make up my laugh and fill it with light. Absolutely, without being my self-conscious of it, I began to look at all things with different eyes, at Carthia and at our domestics and at Sonia, and at myself and at my occupations. The books which I had formerly read, simply for the sake of killing time, suddenly became for me one of the greatest pleasures in my life, and the reason of it was simply this, that he and I talked about them or read them together. He kept me well supplied with books. Formerly, the time that

I spent in superintending Sonia's lessons was burdensome, and I undertook it only from the compulsory feeling that it was my duty. He interested himself in her lessons, and it became a pleasure to me to see what progress and success the child made. Heather to it had seemed an impossibility for me to learn a whole piece of music by heart, but now, knowing that he would listen to it and perhaps commend me for it, I would practice over a single passage forty times, so that poor Katya stopped up her ears with cotton, but I found it not in the least tedious. The old sonatas, somehow or other, seemed to phrase themselves in an entirely different manner, and produced a different and vastly better effect. Even Katya, whom I knew and loved as myself, underwent a change in my

eyes. For the first time I understood that she was under no obligation to be our mother, our friend, our servant, such as she had been, I appreciated all the dear souls' self-renunciation and devotion, appreciated all that I owed to her, and loved her more than ever before. He taught me to look on all of our dependents, peasants, domestics, maid-servants, in an entirely different way from before. I am ashamed to confess that I'd lived among these people for 17 years and knew less about them than about the people whom I'd never seen. It had never once occurred to me that these men and women had the same affections, desires and sorrows as my own. Our garden, our groves, our fields, which I'd known so long, suddenly acquired a new beauty in my eyes. Nor vainly spoken was his remark that

there is only one enduring happiness in life, to live for others. It seems to be a lot of seemed to me strange at the time. I did not understand it, but this conviction had unconsciously penetrated into my heart. He opened up for me a whole life of joy in the present, not making any apparent change in my life, adding nothing except himself to every impression. Everything which, since childhood, had been inert around me, had suddenly become endowed with life. He had only to make his appearance for everything to break into speech, and, at the same time, for all the powers of my soul to spring into life, filling with joy. Often I would go upstairs to my room, fling myself on my bed, and give myself up to the sway, not of melancholy longings,

hopes and desires with which spring endowed the future, but of present happiness. I could not sleep, but I would get up, go over to Katya's bed, and confide to her sympathetic years the story of my perfect happiness. Now, as I look back on it, I can see no reason for telling her. She could see it with her own eyes. But she told me that she needed nothing and that she was also very happy, and gave me a kiss. I believed her, for it seemed to me right and proper for everybody to be happy. But Katya was not superior to thoughts of sleep, and she used to become right stern and drive me off from her bed, and go to sleep, but I would still remain awake reviewing all my reasons for happiness. Sometimes I got up and said my prayers for a second time,

thanking God in my own words for the happiness which she had vouchsafed me. And in my room it was still. The only sound was Katia's deep, regular breathing, the clock ticking by her side, and my restless turning and murmuring broken words, or crossing myself and kissing the crucifix on my neck. The doors were closed, the shutters drawn, a fly or mosquito was buzzing in some spot, and I felt as if I should always like to stay in my little room, to have the morning forever delay her coming, to retain forever about me my present spiritual atmosphere. It seemed to me that my dreams, my thoughts, and my prayers were living creatures, abiding there with me in the darkness, flying about my bed, hovering over me, and every thought was his thought, every feeling, his

feeling, and at that time I did not as yet know that this was love. I thought that this state of feeling might exist forever, that this feeling might always be unrecipricated. End of Part 1, Chapter 3 of Family Happiness. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Family Happiness by Leo Tolstoy, translated by Nathan Haskell Dahl.

Part 1, Chapter 3. One day, at the time of the grain harvesting, Katya, Sonia and I went out after dinner into the garden to our favourite seat in the shade of the Linden overlooking the ravine, beyond which stretched a view of forests and fields. Sertigier Michaelic had not been to see us for two days past, and we were expecting him this day, the more confidently because our overseer had said that he promised to go out to the field with him. About two o'clock we saw him riding across the field of Rye. Katya told the maid to bring some peaches and cherries of which she was very fond, and then glancing at me with a smile,

ensconced herself comfortably on the bench and was soon dozing. I broke off a crooked branch of the linden that hung down with succulent leaves and juicy bark, which moistened my hand, and, while I fanned Katya, I continued to read, though I constantly stopped to look down the field road along which he would come to us. Sonia, sitting on the root of an old linden tree, was busy making an arbor for her dolls. The day was hot, calm and sultry. the clouds had gathered and grown black and ever since morning a thunder-shower had been threatening i was agitated as always before a thunder-shower but since noon the clouds began to dissipate the sun came out bright and only in one quarter of the sky was their low-muttered thunder and one heavy cloud piling up above the horizon and blending with the dust over the fields was occasionally cut by the vivid zigzag of flashes of the lightning darting to earth it was clear that we at least should escape for this day all along the road back of the garden we could see the lumbering team

loaded down with the sheaves while the empty telegger's hastened out for fresh loads accompanied by peasants dressed in variegated shirts the thick dust neither moved off nor settled but hung in the air behind the hedges among the translucent leaves of the trees in the garden farther away at the threshing floor were heard voices the creaking of wheels and the rustle of the yellow sheaves slowly moving by the fence and lifted in the air until the stacks before my eyes grew into oval houses with the outlines of sharp-pointed roofs and the figures of the peasants swarming about them out on the on the dusty field also the teliegers were moving about and there also the yellow sheaves could be seen and the sounds of wheels of voices and of songs were borne into my ears on one side the field became more and more open with strips of hedge all overgrown with wormwood farther toward the right down in the unsightly half-reaped fields i could see the bright-coloured dresses of the women binding over and waving their arms while the encumbered field grew clear and the symmetrical sheaves were disposed at intervals upon its level surface suddenly as it were before my very eyes summer was transformed into autumn dust and heat were all about except in our beloved nook in the garden on all sides in this dust and heat and exposed to the rays of the sun were the labouring folk talking and moving about with noise and bustle but kathya breathed so peacefully under her white cumberick kerchief and was so comfortably curled up on the cool bench the cherries looked so black juicy and tempting on the plate and our dresses were so fresh and clean the water in the picture gleamed so refreshingly cool in the sun and i felt so happy what can i do about it i asked myself how am i to blame that i am happy but how to share my happiness and how and to whom shall i give all that i am and all my happiness the sun had already gone behind the crown of the birches in the alley and the dust was settling down over the field the atmosphere became clearer and brighter under the slanting rays of the sun the clouds passed entirely off behind the threshing floor through the trees three new she-friks could be seen and the peasants were going away from them the teliyagers with loud creakings hastened down into the field for the last time. The peasant women, with rakes over their shoulders and sheafwifths in their belt, hurried home with singing songs, but still Sirdge Miquelich did not come, although it had been

long since I saw him riding down the road. Suddenly his tall form appeared coming along the alley, from which I did not expect him. He had ridden around the ravine. With his face shining with pleasure and taking off his hat, he came up to me with hasty steps. When he saw that Katia was asleep, he bit his lip, shut his eyes and came up on tiptoe. I instantly perceived that he was in that peculiar state of inexplicable good spirits which I like so much in him, and which we called wild enthusiasm. He was just like a schoolboy released from his lessons. His whole being from head to foot was instinct with satisfaction, happiness, and childlike merriment. Well, how are you, my young Violet? How is your health? Are you well? he whispered, coming to me and pressing my hand.

Yes, I'm feeling first rate, said he, in reply to my inquiry. I'm 13 years old today. I want to play horse and climb trees. In wild enthusiasm, I asked, looking into his laughing eyes and feeling that this wild enthusiasm was contagious. Yes, said he in reply, winking one eye and trying to look sober. But why do you keep hitting Katerina Kalovna on the nose? I was not noticing while I looked at him and continued to wave the branch that I had knocked Katya's handkerchief off and was tickling her face with the leaves. I laughed, but she will insist that she wasn't asleep, said I, in a whisper,

as though I were trying not to wake Katya. But that was not the real reason. It was simply because it was pleasant for me to talk in a whisper with him. He moved his lips, imitating me, mimicking me because i spoke so low that it was impossible to hear what i said seeing the plate of cherries he seized it stealthily went over to sonya under the linden and sat down on her dolls sonya was angry at first but he soon made peace with her by devising a game in which he and she were to see which could eat the most cherries if you like i'll have some more brought said i or get them yourself he took the plate set the dolls on it and he and i went together to the enclosure sonya laughing ran after him tugging at his coat to make him give her back the dolls he gave them back to her and turned to me in all seriousness now why aren't you a violet he said to me softly as though he was still afraid of waking someone as soon as i came to you after all the dust and heat and work i seemed to smell a violet and not the fragrant violet but you know that first variety that is rather dark and smells of melting snows and the lovely things of spring well but how is the harvest getting along i asked in order to hide the delicious

confusion caused by his words splendid these peasants are splendid wherever you find them the more i know them the fonder of them i become yes said i this very day before you came i was looking from the garden at their work and suddenly i felt so ashamed because they were working and i was sitting there comfortably doing nothing that don't take this subject lightly said he interrupting me he he suddenly grew grave but looked into my eyes affectionately it is sacred god keep you from making a show of such a thing yes it is only to you that i say this yes i know but how should we get the cherries the enclosure was locked up and no gardener was about he himself had sent them all off to work sonya ran into the house for the key but he without waiting for it climbed up by one corner lifted the netting and sprang down upon the other side will you have some i heard him say from within give me the plate no i want to pick them myself i will go after the key myself said i sonya won't find it but at that very time i had the strongest desire to see what he was doing there how he looked how he moved, when he supposed that no one was observing him.

Yes, the truth of the matter was that at that time I did not want to lose him from sight for a single moment. I crept round on my tiptoes on the nettles to the other side of the enclosure where it was lower, and, standing on an empty tub so that the wall came just below my breast, I looked over into the shed. I searched the whole interior of the enclosure with its ancient gnarled trees in their wide, dentated leaves, under which hung down, heavy and straight, the luscious black cherries. bending my head under the net I saw Sertigir Mikhailich standing under the bow of an old cherry tree. He evidently supposed that I had gone, and that no one saw him.

With his hat off and his eyes shut he was sitting on the crotch of the old tree and was busy rolling a morsel of cherry gum into a little ball. Suddenly he shrugged his shoulders, opened his eyes and, muttering something, smiled. The word that he said and his smile was so peculiar that I repented of having played the spy. It seemed to me that he had muttered the word musher. It cannot be, I said to myself. dearest musher he repeated still more gently and affectionately but i heard those words distinctly my heart beat so violently and such extreme and as it were forbidden joy seized me that i clung fast with both hands to the fence so as not to fall and betray myself he heard my motion looked up in alarm and suddenly dropping his eyes reddened and grew as flushed as a child he tried to say something to me but was unable and his face grew hotter and hotter he smiled however as he looked at me i smiled in return

his whole face was radiant with pleasure it was no longer the old uncle flattering and lecturing me it was a man neither superior nor inferior to myself a man who loved and feared me and whom i also feared and loved neither of us spoke but we looked at each other but suddenly he frowned the smile and gleam vanished from his eyes and his attitude toward me grew cold and paternal again as though he had been doing something improper and he had come to his senses and advised me to come to mine you would better get down you will fall and hurt you said he and smooth your hair you have no idea how you look why does he play the hypocrite why does he want to hurt my feelings i asked myself indignantly and at that minute i was seized by an irresistible desire to once more confuse him and try my power over him no i want to pick them myself said i and grasping a branch that hung conveniently near i stood up on the wall and got my feet over he made no attempt to assist me as i leaped down from the wall to the ground what foolish things you do he exclaimed reddening again and trying to to hide his confusion under the guise of annoyance. You see, you might have hurt yourself, and how will you get out of here? He was still more confused than before, but this time his confusion frightened rather than pleased me. It was contagious. I blushed, and, going to a little distance from him, and not knowing what to say,

I began to pick cherries, though I had nothing with me to put them into. I reproached myself. I repented, I was afraid, and it seemed to me that I had forever forfeited his good opinion by my rash behaviour. Both of us were silent, and the silence was awkward. Sonia came running with the key and rescued us from this constraint, but it was some time before either of us said a word and we both addressed our remarks to Sonia. When we returned to Katya, who insisted that she had not been asleep but had heard everything, I felt more at my ease and he tried to assume his ordinary patronising fatherly tone. But it was not quite in his power to do so, and he did not deceive me in the least.

I had at that moment the liveliest remembrance of a conversation that had taken place a few days before this between us. Katya had been saying how much easier it was for a man to love and express his love than it was for a woman. A man can say that he loves, but a woman cannot, said she. But I have an idea that a man should not and cannot say that he loves, said he. Why so, I asked? Because it would always be a lie. What sort of a discovery is it that a man loves? As soon as one says this, a sort of bolt, as it were, is drawn. He becomes a slave, he is in love. As soon as he utters that word, it seems as though some miracle must necessarily take place, some experience. Some extraordinary phenomenon as though a broadside of canon were fired off all at once.

It seems to me, he went on to say, that men who solemnly pronounce the words, I love, either deceive themselves, or, what is worse, deceive others. Then how would a woman know that she was loved if she were not to be told? asked Katya. I don't know, he replied. Every man has his own form of speech. But it is a feeling and should be expressed as one. When I read novels, I always imagine what an embarrassed face leftenet Strelzky, or Alfred must put on at the moment of saying, I love the Eleonora. He thinks that there is to be some extraordinary result, but nothing happens to either him or her, they still have the same eyes and the same nose, everything is the same.

Underneath his jesting remark, I felt at the time that there was the serious meaning that had referenced to me, but Carthia was not satisfied to be put down with the heroes of romance. Always paradoxes, said she, but now tell me truly, have you never told a woman that you loved her? I never have, and I have never yet got down on my knee, said he with a laugh, and I never shall. certainly there is no need now for him to tell me that he loves me i said to myself vividly recalling that conversation he loves me and i know it and all his efforts to impair indifferent do not exceed in throwing dust in my eyes all that evening he had little to say to me but in every word that he spoke to katya or sonya his every motion and glance i detected love and i was not mistaken i merely felt annoyed and sorry for him that he should think it necessary to dissimulate and to pretend to be indifferent when all the time it was so evident and when it would have been so simple and easy to be happy beyond telling but how tormented i was by my criminal act of springing down upon him in the cherry enclosure i had an idea that i had lost his esteem in consequence and that he was angry with me after tea i went to the piano and he was angry with me after tea i went to the piano and he was angry with me after tea i went to the piano and he was to the piano and he was, He joined me. Play something for me. I have not heard you for a long time, said he, overtaking me in the drawing room.

I was going to. Sertiga Mikhailich, I exclaimed, suddenly looking him straight in the eye. You were not vexed with me, are you? Why should I be? he asked. Because I didn't do as you wanted me to this afternoon, I exclaimed, blushing. He understood me, shook his head and laughed. His look told me he would have scolded, but that he did not feel strong enough for it. I didn't mean anything by it. We are friends again, aren't we? said I, taking my seat at the piano. said he. The large high-sistered drawing-room was lighted only by two candles set on the piano. The rest of the room was in darkness. The clear summer night gleamed in through the open window. All was still. Occasionally Katia's steps were heard as she moved about in the dark reception room, and Sergei Michaelic's horse, fastened under the window, winnieed and stamped his hoofs on the turf.

He sat behind me so that I could not see him, but everywhere, in the half-light that filled the room, in the music, in my own soul, I felt his presence. glance every motion of his, though I could not see them, was manifest in my heart. I played Mozart's Sonata Fantasia, which he had brought to me, and which I'd learned under his direction and for his sake. I was not thinking at all of what I was playing, but I must have played it well, and I felt certain that he was satisfied. I was conscious of the delight which he was experiencing, and though I was not looking at him, and he was behind me, I felt the look which he fastened upon me. Quite in spite of myself, while I still continued mechanically to touch the keys, I turned around

and glanced at him. His head was outlined against the clear background of the night. He was sitting, with his head resting on his hand, and looking steadily at me with gleaming eyes. I smiled when I saw his look and stopped playing. He smiled back at me and reproachfully nodded his head at the music, signifying that I should go on. When I finished, the moon which had already risen high was shining in and flooding the floor with its silvery light. Katia declared that it was shameful for me to stop playing at the best part of all, and insisted that I was not playing very well, but he maintained that I had never played so well as that evening, and he began to walk up and down through the rooms from the drawing room into the dark reception room and back again, each time looking at me and smiling.

And I also smiled. I even felt like laughing, though there was no reason for it. So happy was I, at anything that might happen on that day. As soon as he was behind the door and out of sight, I seized Katya, who was near me by the piano, and began to kiss her in the place that I liked best of all, on her plump neck under her chin. As soon as he came back again, I put on a serious face and did my utmost to refrain from smiling. What has happened to her today? asked Katya, but he made no reply and merely laughed at me. He knew what had happened to me.

Just see what a beautiful night it is, said he, from the reception room where he was standing in front of the balcony window that opened into the garden. We went to him, and indeed it was such a night as I've never seen since. The full moon hung over the house back of us, so that it was out of sight, and half of the shadow of the roof, of the pillars and of the awning of the terrace,

lay foreshortened obliquely, on raccocy on the sanded footpath and the oval grass plot all the rest was bright and flooded with moonlight gleaming on the silvery dew the wide path between the flower beds across which on one side lay the slanting shadows of the dahlias and their supports stretched away fresh and cool and shining with glittering pebbles into the misty distance under the trees could be seen the bright glass roof of the orangery and out of the ravine rose a shadowy vapour the still clumps of lilacs where the flowers were not as yet in bloom were bathed in moonlight All the flowers, wet with dew, could be distinguished from one another. Light and shade was so mingled in the alleys that it seemed as though they were not composed of trees and paths, but were transparent houses rocking and swaying. At the right in the shadow of the house all was dark, dim and weird. But, with all the greater distinctness from contrast in this darkness,

the fantastic crest of the poplar seemed to hang strangely suspended near the house, the top all bathed in bright light and ready to soar away far into the calm blue sky. come let us go out said i carthia agreed but told me to get my overshoes it is not necessary katya said i here surdegaine mackaylitch will give me his arm just as though that would prevent me from dampening my feet but at that time all three of us understood my meaning and did not seem strange at all he had never offered me his arm but now i took it of my own accord and it did not surprise him in the least he and i went out together on the terrace all this world this sky this garden this atmosphere no longer appeared the same as i had always known them when i had always known them when i had i went out together on the terrace all this world this sky this sky this atmosphere no longer appeared the same as i had always known them when i looked along the alley through which we were walking it seemed to me that we should in a moment be brought to a stop that yonder the world of the possible would end and that all this spectacle must continue for ever changeless in its beauty but still we moved on and the magic shadow wall of beauty gave way before us and let us pass beyond where also so it seemed were our garden the trees the paths the dry leaves also well known and we were merely walking along the paths treading on the circlets of light and shadow and it was merely the dry leaves rustling under our feet and the cool breeze which fanned my face and this was only he who as he walked quietly beside me with slow steps discreetly allowed my hand to rest on his arm and this was merely katya who shuffling a little along, followed just behind us, and that could be nothing else than the moon itself in the sky

shining down upon us through the motionless branches. But at each step the magic shadow wall seemed to close behind us and before us, and I found it as hard as ever to believe that we might go farther, to believe in the reality of all that surrounded us. "'Oh, a frog!' exclaimed Katya. Who said that and why? I asked myself, and I instantly realized that it was Katya, and that she was afraid of frogs, and I looked to the ground. The little frog hopped up before me and came to a standstill. and his tiny shadow lay along the bright clay walk. And aren't you afraid of them, he asked?

I glanced at him. One of the lindens of the alley had been cut down, and at that particular place where we were passing, his face was brightly illuminated by the moonlight. It was so beautiful and full of happiness. He said, Aren't you afraid? But there was a deeper meaning to his words.

I heard him say, I love thee, dear maiden. I love thee, love thee. His glance and his arm said them, and the light and the shadow in the air and everything repeated the same. we made the circuit of the whole garden katya went with us taking short steps and getting out of breath from her exertion she said that it was time to go back and i felt sorry sorry for her poor old soul why doesn't she feel the same as we do i wondered why are not all young all happy as this night is and we're with it we returned to the house but though it was very late he did not take his leave although the cocks were crowing although everybody in the house was asleep and his horse kept stamping more and more impatiently and whinying under the window Katya did not remind us that it was late, and, as we sat there talking about various trifles,

we had no idea that it was already three o'clock in the morning. The cocks were beginning to crow for the third time, and there was a faint tinge of dawn in the sky when he went away. He took his departure, as usual, without saying anything out of the ordinary course of things, but I well knew that from henceforth he was mine, and that I should not lose him. As soon as I confessed to myself that I loved him, I told Katya the whole story. She was very glad and very much touched because I told her, but the poor soul was able to get some sleep that night.

While I, on the contrary, walked long, long up and down the terrace and went into the garden, and while recalling every word, every gesture, I walked along the very same alleys where we had been together. I could not sleep that night, and for the first time in my life

I sat up till sunrise and saw the early morning, and never since have I seen such a night and such a morning. But why, I ask myself, why does he not tell me simply that he loves me? Why does he imagine such difficulties? Why does he call himself an old man, when everything is so simple and beautiful? Why does he waste golden time which perhaps can never return again? Let him say, I love.

Let him say the words. Let him take my hand in his, let him press it to his lips and say, I love. All that is necessary is for his face to flush and his eyes to be cast down before me, and then I should tell him all. Or no, not tell him, but rather, throw my arms around him and press him to my heart and weep. But suppose I am mistaken and he does not love me, that thought suddenly came into. my mind. I was alarmed at the feeling that came over me. God knows where it might lead me, and his confusion and mine also in the cherry enclosure when I sprang down where he was,

came back to my memory, and I became heavy-hearted, very heavy-hearted. Tears sprang to my eyes, I tried to pray, and a strange feeling of peace and hope came to me. I resolved to fast from this day forth to partake of the Holy Communion on my birthday, and on that very day to become his betrothed. Why? Wherefore? How could it be brought about? I had not the slightest idea, but from that moment my faith was firm, and I knew that this would be so. It was already perfectly light, and the people were beginning to get up when I went to my room. End of Part 1, Chapter 3. Part 1, Chapter 4 of Family Happiness. This is a Librevox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer,

please visit Libravox.org Family Happiness by Leo Tolstoy Translated by Nathan Haskell Dahl Part 1, Chapter 4 It was the fast of the assumption and therefore no one in the house was surprised at my resolution to prepare for the sacrament during these days.

During that entire week he did not once come to see us and I was not only not surprised or alarmed or hurt but, on the contrary, I was glad that he did not come, and I only expected that he would come on my birthday. During that entire week I got up every morning early and while they were harnessing the horses I would wander alone through the garden and meditate on the sins that I had committed the day before and consider what I ought to do on the present day

in order to be satisfied with my time and not fall deeper into sin. At that time it seemed to me so easy to be absolutely without sin. It seemed to me that all that was necessary was to try. As soon as the horses were put in, I would take Katia or one of the maids and drive in our two-seated droshki, three verses, to church. On entering the church, I always remembered that prayers were offered for all who came in the fear of God, and I took pains to mount the two grass-grown steps of the porch under the influence of this feeling.

At this time of day there were never more than half a score of peasants or household serfs in the church, preparing for the communion, and I tried with strenuous humility to respond to their salutations, and I myself went to the candle cupboard to get tapers of the old soldier who served at a sacristan, and I placed them before the icons, and this seemed to me to be a meritorious action. Through the holy gate I could see the altar cover which Mama had embroidered, on the Iconastas were the two angels spangled with stars, which, when I was a little girl, had seemed to me so huge, and the dove with a yellow nimbus which used to engross my childish attention.

Behind the chancel rail could be seen the modelled font, at which I had stood so many times as godmother for the children of our house serfs, and where I myself had been christened. the old priest came in his chastiscible made of a cloth that had been my father's paul and read the church service in the very same tone in which she had so many times read it since my earliest remembrance at our own house at sonya's christening at my father's requiem-mass and at my mother's funeral and the priest's trembling voice as it echoed through the choir was the same and there was the same old woman whom i always remembered to have seen at church at every service as she stood all bent over next to the wall looking with tearful eyes at the icon on the she shone on the shone and she stood all bent over next to the wall looking with tearful eyes at the icon on the she. chancel, and pressing her clasped hands to her faded shawl and mumbling prayers with a toothless mouth. And there was nothing at all in this to arouse my curiosity, nor was it dear to me from the associations alone, but it was all grand and holy now in my eyes, and it seemed to me full of deep

significance. I listened to every word of the stated prayers, and endeavoured to respond to them with my feeling. And where I failed to understand the full depth of them, then I mentally implored God to enlighten me, or, in place of the prayer that I could not understand, I murmured one of my own inaudibly. When the prayers of repentance were read, I recalled my past, and that childish, innocent past seemed to me so black in comparison with the present, enlightened states of my soul, that I wept and was terrified. But at the same time I felt that all was forgiven me, and that if my sins had been even more heinous, my repentance would have been correspondingly sweeter. At the end of the service when the priest said, the blessing of God be upon you, it seemed

to me that I felt a physical sense of well-being instantly take possession of me. A peculiar feeling of light and warmth, as it were, suddenly flowed into my heart. When the service was over, the good father would come to me an inquiry if it would not be a good plan to have a Vesper service at our house, and when he should come. But I thanked him warmly for his offer because I felt that it was for my sake that he suggested it, and I told him that I would come to him or would let him know. Do you wish to give yourself the trouble? he asked. I did not know what answer to make for fear of laying myself open to the sin of pride. After Mass, I always sent the carriage home unless Katya were with me, and returned alone on foot,

humbling bowing low to all I met, and trying to find some opportunity of doing good, giving advice, sacrificing myself for someone, helping lift a load, rocking a child, or stepping out into the mud to make room for someone to pass. One evening I heard the overseer telling Katya that Simeon, one of the peasants, had come to beg for some boards to make a coffin for his daughter, and a little money for a mass, and that he had given him. it. Why are they so poor, I asked? Very poor, they can't even get enough to eat, replied the overseer. Something seemed to clutch my heart, and at the same time I felt a sort of joy at hearing this.

Giving Katya the impression that I was going out for a stroll, I ran upstairs, collected all my money, it was very little, but all that I had. And, crossing myself, I went alone into the terrace, and threw the garden into the village to Semion's cottage. This was at the very end of the village, and I, without being seen by anyone, went up to the window, laid the money on the sill and tapped on the glass. Someone came out of the cottage, making the door creak on its hinges and called to me, but I, trembling and chilled with dread, ran home like a transgressor. Katya asked me where I had been, and what was the matter with me? But I did not even comprehend what she asked me, and I made no reply. It all suddenly seemed to me so mean and petty.

I shut myself up in my room and for a long time walked up and down, unable to act, or to think, or to account for my feeling. I thought of the pleasure which the whole family would feel, of the blessings which they would shower down on the one who had bestowed the money, and I began to feel sorry that I had not myself given it to them. I also thought what Sertiggen-Mich would say if he knew about this foolish freak of mine, and I was glad enough that no one would ever know anything about it. And I had such a sense of joy, and all, including myself, seem so contemptible,

and yet I looked with such kindly feelings upon myself, and upon all, that the thought of death came to me like a vision of happiness, I smiled and I prayed and I wept, and what a passionately ardent love for myself and for everyone else in the world I felt at that moment. I read the gospel as it is found in the prayer book, and more and more comprehensible seemed to me this book, and more attractive and simple the story of that divine life, and more terrible and impenetrable the deep feelings and thoughts which I found in its doctrines. But for that very reason how clear and simple everything seemed to me when, after laying down this book, I again directed my thoughts and observations to the life about me.

It seemed to me so hard not to live aright, and so simple to love everyone and to be loved by all. All was so kind and sweet to me, even Sonia, to whom I continued to give lessons, was entirely different, and tried to understand me and to satisfy me and not to give me annoyance. All behaved toward me as I myself behaved.

In trying to think over those who were offended with me and whose forgiveness I ought to ask before a confession, I recalled only one, a young lady, a neighbour. i had laughed at her a year before in the presence of guests and she had ceased to visit me i wrote her a letter confessing my fault and asking her forgiveness she replied in a note granting it and in her turn asking me to forgive her i wept with delight as i read these simple lines in which at that time i could see a deep and touching significance my old nurse wept when i asked her to forgive me why are they all so kind to me what have i done to deserve such love i asked myself and i involuntary recalled sardier mikhailich and for a long time thought about it him i could not do otherwise and i did not look upon it as an impropriety i thought of him now however in an entirely different way from what i did that night when for the first time i realized that i loved him i thought about him just as i did about myself and naturally he entered into every plan concerning my future the impression of superiority which his presence made upon me entirely disappeared from my imagination i now felt myself on an equality with him and from the height of the spiritual mood to which i had reached i thoroughly understood him what had hitherto two been estranged in him now became clear to me, for the first time I understood why he

declared that happiness consisted it only in living for others, and now I was in perfect accord with him. It seemed to me that we should be so endlessly and serenely happy together, and no thought entered my mind of journeys abroad, or of gay society, of brilliant life, but something entirely different, a quiet, domestic life in the country with constant self-sacrifice, with constant love for each other, and with constant acknowledgement of a kind and helpful providence in all things. I partook of the Holy Communion, as I had proposed to do, on my birthday. My heart was so full of happiness when I returned that day from church that I dreaded life, dreaded every impression, everything that might in the least disturb such happiness.

But as soon as we had dismounted from our droshky, and were mounting the steps, the well-known cabriolet rattled across the bridge, and I saw Sertigé Mikhailich. He congratulated me, and we went together into the reception room. never since our acquaintance began had i been so calm and self-possessed as i was that morning i felt there was within me a whole new world high above him and of which he was ignorant i did not feel in his presence the slightest restraint he must have understood something of this for he was affectionately gentle toward me and treated me with a peculiarly religious deference i went to the piano but he shut it and put the key in his pocket don't destroy the spell that holds you said he your soul is now full of harmony better than any earthly music i was grateful to him for his thoughtfulness but at the same time i felt a little disappointment that he should too easily and clearly read all that ought to be kept a secret from every one in my soul after dinner he said that he had come to congratulate me and at the same time to say good-bye as he was going to moscow the next day in saying this he looked at katya and then he gave me a fleeting glance and i saw how he feared to witness the emotion in my face but i was neither surprised nor annoyed and i did not even ask him whether he should be gone long i knew that he would say though words and i knew also that he would not go how i knew i never even to the present day explained to myself but on that memorable day it seemed to me that i knew everything whatever had been and whatever would be i seemed to be in a blissful dream when things that have not yet taken place seemed to be already in existence and long ago a part of one's knowledge and yet all is still to come and you know that it is to come

he intended to go away immediately after dinner but kathya who was tired in consequence of the service went to lie down for a little while and he was a little while and he was a obliged to wait till she had finished her nap so was to say good-bye to her the sun shone brightly into the drawing-room we went out on the terrace as soon as we had sat down i began with perfect serenity the conversation that was destined to decide the fortune of my love and i began to speak at the very moment that we sat down neither sooner or later so that nothing had as yet been said when there was nothing as yet to give a different tone or character to our talk or to affect unfavourably what i wanted to say i myself could not understand whence came the calmness decision and accuracy that marked my expression it seemed as though it were not myself but something quite independent of my will that spoke in me he took a seat in front of me leaning his arm on the balustrade and drawing down toward him a branch of lilac began to pull off the leaves when i began to speak he let the branch fly back and rested his head on his hand this might have been the attitude of a man perfectly calm or very much agitated why are you going away i asked in a significant tone deliberately and looking him full in the face he did not answer at once business he exclaimed dropping his eyes i saw how hard it was for him to tell me a falsehood in answer to a question put with such frankness listen said i you know what this day is for me in many ways this day is very important if i ask you the question it is not out of mere compliment you know that i am so used to seeing you and that i am fond of you but i ask you because i must know why are you going it is very hard for me to tell you the truth in regard to this said he this past week i've thought so much about you and about myself and i've come to the conclusion that it is my duty to go you know why and if you are fond of me you will not ask me he rubbed his forehead with his hand and shut his eyes this is hard for me but you understand my heart began to throb violently i cannot understand said i i cannot you will tell me for heaven's sake for the sake of this day tell me i can hear the whole calmly said i

he changed his position glanced at me and again pulled down the branch besides said he after a pause and in a voice that vainly tried to be firm though it is stupid and impossible to put into the words though it is hard for me i will try to explain to you he went on contracting his browsers though with physical pain well said i imagine that there was a certain gentleman let us call him a said he old and weary of life and a lady young and happy who has never as yet seen society or life in various family relations he had learned to love her as a daughter her and never imagined loving her otherwise. He paused, but I did not interrupt him. But he forgot that B was so young that life for her was still a plaything, he went on, suddenly beginning to speak rapidly and resolutely and not looking at me, and that he might easily learn to love her in a different way and that this would be sport for her.

And he himself was deceived and suddenly woke to the consciousness that another feeling, heavy as regret, had taken possession of his soul and he was frightened, and he was frightened lest their former friendly relations might be interrupted, and he resolved to depart before they should be interrupted. in saying this he again as it were carelessly rubbed his eyes with his hand and closed them why pray should he be afraid of loving her in a different way i asked in a scarcely audible tone i controlled my agitation and my voice was calm but he really seemed to think that i was jesting he replied in a tone that showed he was evidently offended you were young said he and i'm no longer young you enjoy trifling but i must have something else trifle as much as you like only not with me otherwise i verily believe i should do something rash and you would feel sorry this is what a said he added well it may be all nonsense but you understand why i am going and now let us not say anything more about it please no no we will speak more about it i cried and the tears we will speak more about it i cried and the tears has made my voice tremble. Did he love her or not? He made no reply. But if he did not love her,

why is he trafficked with her as with a child, I demanded. Yes, yes, A was to blame, he answered hastily, interrupting me. But all that came to an end, they parted, friends. But that is terrible. And was there no other possible ending? The words were barely out of my mouth when I was appalled at my temerity. Yes, there is, said he, uncovering an agitated face and looking straight at me. There are two different ways of ending it, but for heaven's sake do not interrupt me and hear me calmly. Some say, he began, standing up and looking at me with a painfully sad smile. Some say that A became crazy, fell madly in love with B, and told her so. But she only laughed at him.

For her this was merely amusing, but for him it was a matter of life and death. I shivered and tried to interrupt him, to tell him that he had no right to speak to me, but he restrained me, laying his hand on mine. Stop, said he in a trembling voice. Others may say that she had pity on him, that she imagined, poor little girl who has never seen much of the world, that she might really love him, and so consented to be his wife, and he was mad enough to believe it, to believe that his life might begin anew, but she herself saw that she was deceiving him and that he was deceiving her.

Let us not say anything more about this, he concluded, evidently not having the force to speak further, and he began silently to walk up and down in front of me. He said, let us not say any more about this, but I saw that, with all the powers of his soul, he was waiting for my reply. I wanted to speak, but I could not. Something seemed to oppress my breast. I looked at him. He was pale and his lower lip quivered. I felt sorry for him.

I put forth all my strength, and, suddenly breaking the chain of silence which bound me, I said in a weak, choking voice which I feared each second would fail me. But there is a third ending, said I, and paused. But he was waiting in silence. But there is a third ending that he did not love, but he gave a deep, deep pain and thought that he was doing right, and went away and prided himself on doing so on your side and not on mine is the trifling from the first day i have loved you yes loved you i repeated and that the word loved my voice in spite of myself changed from a gentle tone to a wild shriek which frightened me he stood all pale before me his lips quivered more and more and two tears rolled down his cheeks it is cruel i almost screamed and i feared that i should suffocate with angry unwept tears what is the reason i cried and got up to leave him but he would not let me go his head bent forward on my knees, his lips were kissing my trembling hands, wet with his tears.

My God, if only I had known, he cried. What is the reason? What is the reason I kept repeating, but my soul was already full of joy. A joy never to be taken from me, never to be repeated. In five minutes, Sonia ran upstairs to Katya and was shouting all over the house that Marsha was going to marry Serigua Gimeich. End of Part 1, Chapter 4. Part 1, Chapter 5 of Family Happiness.

This is a Librevox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Family Happiness by Leo Tolstoy, translated by Nathan Haskell Doll. Part 1, Chapter 5 There was no reason for postponing our wedding, and neither of us desired such a thing. To be sure, Katia was anxious to go to Moscow and order a trousseau, and his mother urged him to get a new carriage and furniture,

and have the house furnished with new hangings before he should marry. but we both decided that it would be better to attend to all these things afterwards, if indeed they were so necessary, and accordingly the wedding was celebrated a fortnight after my birthday, without a trousseau, without guests, without groomsmen, without a supper and champagne and all those conventional accessories of a wedding. He told me how annoyed his mother was to have the married ceremony performed without music, without a mountain of trunks, and a complete renovation of the house so different from her wedding, which cost 30,000 roubles, and how she was solemnly making a secret search through the trunks in a storeroom, and taking Mariuska the housekeeper into consultation in regard to certain rugs, curtains, and salvers indispensable for our felicity. In my house, Katya did the same with the old nurse Kuzminshna, and it was of no use to speak with her in respect to this, otherwise

them seriously. She was firmly convinced that when Sertagy Mikhailovich and I were talking over our future, we were merely talking soft sentimentalities and behaving foolishly, as people in such conditions are usually supposed to do, but that a material happiness in the future would depend upon the regular cut and embroidery of my underwear and the hemming of tablecloths and napkins. Between Pekrovskaya and Nikolskaya, mysterious messages were exchanged several times each day, respecting various preparations, and, although outwardly Kathya and his mother seemed to be on the most affectionate footing, still their intercourse began to be conducted in accordance with a subtle but somewhat hostile diplomacy. Tatiana Semyonovna, his mother, with whom I now became much more

closely acquainted, was a precise stern mistress of the manor and a lady of the old school. He loved her, not only as a son, for duty's sake, but also as a man, through his intellect, regarding her as the very best, most intelligent, kindness and most lovable woman in the world. Tatiana Semyonovna had always been kind to us, and to me especially, and she was glad that her son was going to marry me, but when I had visited her after my betrothal, it seemed to me that she was anxious to make me understand that I was not after all the best match for her son, and that it was well for me never to forget it. But I entirely understood her and agreed with her. During the last two weeks of my maidenhood we saw each other every day. He came to dinner and stayed till

midnight. But, in spite of his declaration that he could not live without me, and I knew he spoke the truth. He never spent a whole day without me, and tried still to give some attention to his affairs. Our outward relations continued up to the very day of the wedding, the same as before. We still addressed each other formally with Vue, but he did not even kiss my hand, and not only did not seek, but even avoided opportunities of being alone with me. He really seemed to be afraid that the affection which was in his heart would become too overmastering and injurious. I cannot tell, either he or I had changed, and now I felt that I stood on the same footing with him i no longer found in him that affectation of simplicity which had formerly displeased me and oftentimes i saw before me instead of a man inspiring respect or a sweet child spoiled with happiness there is nothing so surprisingly great in him i often said to myself he is simply a human being just as i am nothing more

it now seemed to me that there was nothing hidden from me that i knew him thoroughly and all that i saw of him was so simple and so congenial to me even his plans for our future mode of life coincidental to me even his plans for our future mode of life coincidental with mine only they were expressed more clearly and admirably in his words the weather these days was wretched and we spent most of the time in the house our best and most intimate talks were held between the piano and the window the candle-light was reflected in the window-panes against which now and again fell the raindrops and trickled down the rain beat on the roof and poured from the spout into the pool the dampness spread over the window and how much brighter warmer and more cheerful from very contrast it seemed in our corner do you know i have for a long time wanted to tell you one thing said he as we were sitting late one evening in this place i have been thinking about it all the time that you were playing do not tell me anything i know at all said i yes you were right we will say nothing about it oh but tell me what were you going to say i asked well this was it do you remember when i told you the story about a and b the idea of not remembering that stupid story that's well that it ended as it did yes a little more and i should have ruined my own happiness you saved me but the main thing was that i was telling a falsehood all the time and my conscience pricks me and i wish to finish telling it oh please it's not necessary don't be alarmed said he with a smile all i wish is to set myself right in your eyes when i began to speak i wanted to reason reason what for i exclaimed it is never necessary yes i reasoned badly after all my disillusions my mistakes in life when i came to live in the country i resolutely told myself that love for me was at an end that all that was left to me was the duty of living out my remnant of life and it was long before i realized what my feelings were toward you and where they were leading me

i hoped and despaired sometimes it seemed to me that you were playing the coquette then again my faith returned and actually i did not know what i should do but after that evening you remember don't you when we walked through the garden that moonlight night i was filled with alarm my happiness then seemed to me too great seemed to exceed the bounds of possibility well what would have happened to me if i had allowed myself to hope and found that it was in vain but of course i thought only of myself because i'm a miserable egotist he stopped talking and looked at me however it was not absolute nonsense that i spoke at that time for you see there was a good reason for me to fear i received so much from you and can give so little in return you are still only a child you're a bud which is yet to unfold you love for the first time while i yes tell me all the truth about it said i but suddenly i felt overmastered by a sudden terror at what his answer might be no no it is not necessary i added whether i have ever loved before you mean he exclaimed instantly did but i have ever loved before you mean he exclaimed instantly divining my thought, I can tell you about it. No, I have never loved before. Never have I experienced such a feeling as this. But suddenly some painful memory seemed to flash through his mind. No, and just here is where I need a heart like yours in order to have the right to love you, said he, gloomily. Was it not necessary, therefore, for me to think it all over before telling you that I loved you? What is there for me to give

you? Love, that is true. Is that little, I asked, looking him in the eyes. little my dear little for you he continued you are young and beautiful i often now cannot sleep at night i am so happy and because i keep thinking how we are going to live together i've had many experiences in life and it seems to me that i have now found all that is essential for happiness the quiet lonely life in our country's solitude with the possibility of being benefactors to people to whom it is easy to do good and who are so unaccustomed to it then work work which brings its own reward then rest nature one's books music, love for some congenial spirit, such is my ideal of happiness, and I cannot conceive of a higher. And then, above all, such a friend as you are, a family, perhaps, and all that any man could desire in this world. Yes, said I. For me, since I have lived out my youth, yes, but not for you, he went on to say. You have not as yet seen anything of life. You very likely have still some desire to seek happiness in another sphere, and perhaps you would find it. It seems to you now that

this is happiness because you love me no this quiet home happiness has always been my aim and ambition said i and you have simply expressed what i've always thought he smiled it only seems so to you my dear this is little to you you are young and beautiful he repeated thoughtfully but i was annoyed because he did not believe me and because he as it were made my youth and beauty a reproach then why do you love me i asked angrily for my beauty or for myself i don't know but i love you he replied look at me with his keen, fascinating glance. I made no answer, and could not help looking into his eyes. Suddenly something strange took place in me. First I ceased to see all surrounding objects, then his face disappeared from before me. His eyes alone seemed to be gleaming in front of my eyes.

Then it seemed to me that those eyes took possession of me. Then everything grew dim and everything faded from my sight, and I had to shut my eyes in order to get rid of the sense of passionate bliss and terror which that glance of his gave me. on the eve of the day set for the wedding late in the afternoon the weather cleared and after the rains which had begun while it was still summer we had our first clear cool autumn evening everything was wet cool and bright and now for the first time the garden began to open out its vistas through the autumnal coloring of the leaves that already had begun to fall the sky was clear cool and pale i went to bed happy in the thought that the day of our wedding should be fair on that day i woke with the sun and the thought that the time had come as it were, frightened me, and filled me with fear and wonder, I went down into the garden. The sun had only just risen, and was shining through the thin yellow foliage of the linden trees that shaded the walk.

The path was strewn with rustling leaves. The wrinkled, bright clusters of berries on the mountain ash gleamed red on the branches, where still hung a few crumbled leaves killed by the frost. The dahlia stood shriveled and black. Frost, for the first time, lay like silver across the pale green grass, and on the broken burdock near the house. on the clear cool sky not a single cloud was or could be seen can it be to-day i ask myself not daring to believe in my happiness can it be that i shall wake up to-morrow not here but in that strange house at nikolskaya with its pillars is it possible that i shall no longer have to wait for his coming no more be going out to meet him talk no longer about him with kathya shall i no more sit with him in the piano in our pokrovskoja drawing-room shall i no more see him to the door and worry about him when the nights are dark

but then i remembered he had told me the evening before that he had come for the last time and katya had called me to try on my wedding dress and said it is for to-morrow and for a moment i really realized it and again doubted can it be that after to-day i am going to live there with my husband's mother without nadjojah without old grigory without katya shall i no longer kiss my nurse good-night and have her according to old custom make the sign of the cross over me and say good-night i shall no longer teach sonya and play with her and knock on the wall for her in the morning and hear her ringing laughter must i to-day be changed into another person a stranger to myself and is a new life the realisations of my hopes and desires opening out before me will this new life last for ever i waited impatiently for him to come it was hard for me to be alone with these thoughts he came early and only when i saw him did i really believe that this day i was to be his wife and ceased to tremble at the thought before dinner we went to our chapel to offer a mass in memory of my father if he were only alive now i thought as we were returning home and i silently leaned on the arm of the man who had been the warmest friend of him whom i was thinking during the prayer while i knelt with my forehead pressed to the cold stones of the chapel floor i recalled my father so vividly i had such a firm belief that his spirit was cognizant of me and approved for my choice that it seemed to me as though even now it were hovering over us and giving us his blessing and recognized collections and hopes and happiness and grief mingled within me in one triumphant and delicious feeling, which was still further intensified by the calm, fresh air, the calmness, the wide bare fields,

the pale sky, from which fell over all things bright but gentle rays, striving to kindle the colour in my cheeks. It seemed to me that the man who was by my side understood and shared my feeling. He walked quietly and silently, and his face into which I looked from time to time, expressed the same serious emotion which was neither grief nor joy and which was both in nature and in my heart suddenly he turned to me and i saw that he had something in his mind to say it occurred to me suppose he should not speak of what i am thinking but he spoke of my father though he did not even speak of him by name once he said to me in jest you must marry my musha these were his words how happy he would be now said i warmly pressing the arm on which i leaned yes you were then only a child he went on to say looking into my eyes i used to kiss those eyes and loved them only because they were like his and i had no thought then that they would be for their own sake so dear to me i called you musha then say thou to me said i that is what i have wished he went on but only now does it seem impossible to me that thou art wholly mine and his calm happy fascinating glance rested on me and we walked still without hurrying along the field-path scarcely traceable amid the trampled piles of stubble our footsteps in our voices alone broke the silence on one side beyond the ravine stretched away toward the distant forest now stripped of leaves the brown stubble field where not far from us

a peasant with his rude plough was noiselessly marking a black strip that grew constantly wider and wider. The drove of horses scattered at the foot of the hill seemed close at hand. On the other side, and straight ahead of us, the dark field of winter wheat, touched by the frost, and marked here and there with greenish patches, stretched away clear up to the garden and the house which could be seen rising directly behind it. Everything was bathed in the autumnal rays of the sun. Long filaments of cobwebs stretched in every direction. they floated through the air around us and hung over the field dried by the frost they got into our eyes and clung to our hair and our garments when we spoke our voices were resonant and seemed to hover over us in the motionless atmosphere as though we were alone in the midst of the great world

and alone under the blue arch over which played an unscourching sun flashing and trembling i also wanted to use the familiar ti thou to him but i felt abashed why dost thou walk so fast i asked hurrying over the words and almost whispering them, and feeling the blood rush to my face. He slackened his pace and looked still more affectionately, still more gaily and joyfully at me. When we reached the house, his mother and the guests whom we could not avoid asking were already assembled, and, up to the moment when, on leaving the church, we took our seats in the carriage to ride to Nikolskaya. I was no longer alone with him.

The church was almost empty. I saw her out of the corner of my eye, only his mother, standing prim and precise on the carpeting in the choir. Katya in her cap with lilac ribbons and with tears on her cheeks, and two or three house serves who had been attracted by curiosity and came to stare at me. I did not look at him, but I was conscious of his presence near me. I listened to the words of the prayers and repeated them with my lips, but there seemed to be no echo of them in my soul.

I could not pray. I looked stupidly at the icons, the tapers, the embroidered cross on the back of the priest's chastiscible, at the Iconistas, the church windows, and everything was like a dream. I only had a confused consciousness that something extraordinary was taking place in me. When the priest with the cross turned to us and congratulated us, and said that he had christened me, and now God had granted him the privilege of marrying me, when Carthione's mother kissed us, and Grigori's voice was heard as he drove up the carriage. I was amazed and frightened, because it was all over and nothing extraordinary had taken place in my soul,

nothing that had corresponded to the mysterious sacrament which had been performed over me. He and I exchanged kisses, and this kiss was so strange, so alien to our feelings. Is that all? I asked myself. We went to the church porch, the wheels echoed with a hollow sound under the vaulted roof. My face was fanned by the cool breeze. He put on his hat and handed me into the carriage. From the carriage window I saw the crescent of the frosty moon. He took his seat next me and shut the door.

Something throbbed in my heart. The self-assurance with which he did this seemed to be insulting. "'Catia's voice screamed something about protecting my head, "'the wheel struck against the stone, "'and then we turned into the smooth road and were off. "'Throwing myself back in one corner, "'I looked out of the window, "'on the distant fields and the road,

"'seeming to reflect a pale light from the chill rays of the moon. "'And, though I did not look at him, "'I felt the consciousness that he was next to me. "'And is this all that the moment "'for which I have waited so anxiously has to give me, "'I ask myself, "'and it began to appear mean and humiliating to see, it alone so near to him i turned to him with the intention of saying something but no word found utterance it was as though there were in me none of that former feeling of affection and as though humiliation and dismay had taken its place till this moment i have not been able to persuade myself that this was to be he softly murmured in reply to my look

yes but somehow or rather it is terrible to me i replied am i terrible to you he asked taking my hand and raising it to his lips my hand lay lifelessly in his, and in my heart there was a sense of painful coldness. Yes, I whispered. But then suddenly my heart began to beat more violently. My hand trembled and suddenly pressed his hand. A feeling of warmth came over me. My eyes tried to look into his, in the twilight, and I suddenly felt that I was not afraid of him,

that this dismay was love, new and vastly more tender and strong than before. I felt that I was wholly his, and that I was happy in his sovereignty over me. me. End of Part 1, Chapter 5. Part 2, Chapter 1 of Family Happiness. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain.

For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Family Happiness by Leo Tolstoy, translated by Nathan Haskell Dahl. Part 2, Chapter 1. Days, weeks, two months of lonely country life went by, imperceptibly as it seemed at that time. But, at the same time, the emotions, sensations and delights of those two months would have sufficed for a whole lifetime. Both my dreams and his of how our life in the country should be organised were not realized at all

as we had anticipated. But our life was in no respect to disappointment of our dreams. It was not that strenuous labour, the fulfilment of duty, self-renunciation and life for others that I had imagined when I became his betrothed. It was, on the contrary, an absorbing, selfish affection for one another, a desire to be loved, a constant, causeless delight, and oblivion of all in the world. To be sure, he sometimes went into his study, shut himself up to attend to his affairs, sometimes he went to town, and, again, he was absent on business about the estate,

but I saw how hard it was for him to tear himself away from me. And he himself acknowledged that everything in the world seemed to him such perfect triviality, unless I were there, that he could not conceive the possibility of taking any interest in them. It was exactly the same with me. I read, occupied myself with my music, with his mother, with the school, but I did this only because each one of these occupations was connected with him and met with his approbation. But as soon as ever the thought of him failed to be connected with any particular task,

my hands would fall at my side and it would seem so odd to think that there was anyone beside him in the world. Possibly this was an unworthy, selfish thought. but it gave me pleasure and elevated me high above all the world. In my eyes he was the only being on earth, and I considered him the handsomest and most perfect man in the world. Consequently, I could not live for anyone beside him or help trying to be in his eyes what he thought me to be.

And he considered me the first and the most beautiful woman in the world, endowed with every possible perfection, and I strove to be this woman in the eyes of the first and best man in all the world. Once he came into my chamber while I was engaged in prayer, I glanced at him and continued with my devotions. He sat down at the table so as to not disturb me and opened a book. But it seemed to me that he was looking at me, and I looked round. He smiled. I began to laugh and could not go on with my devotions.

And have you already said your prayers, I asked? Yes, but go on. I will leave you. You say your prayers, I hope, don't you? He made no reply and was about to go, but I detained him. My sweetheart, please, for my sake, read a prayer with me. He stood by my side, awkwardly dropping his hands and began with his serious countenance, but falteringly, to read. Now and then he turned to me as if to find approbation and encouragement in my face.

When he had read it through, I laughed and gave him a hug. That's the way with thee. It's just as though I were ten years old again, he exclaimed, reddening and kissing my hand. A house was one of those old country mansions in which lived, in mutual love and reverence, several generations of one family. It was all redolent of swore. sweet, pure, family recollections, and these, when I came to live in it, seemed suddenly to have become part and parcel with my own traditions. The furnishing and adornment of the house

were in the old-fashioned style, such as Tatyana Semyonovna preferred. It could not be said that they were elegant and magnificent, but there was an abundance of everything from servants to furniture and food. Everything was tidy, solid, stiff and awe-inspiring. In the reception room the furniture was arranged with symmetrical precision. The wall was hung with portraits, homemade rugs and striped linen were spread on the floor. In the drawing room stood an old grand piano,

chiffoniers, of two distinct styles, sofas and brass and mother-of-pearl tables. My boudoir, by the care of Tatiana Simeonovna, was furnished with the most beautiful furniture of different centuries and styles, and among other things, an old pier-glass, into which I could never glance without a sense of bashfulness, but which finally became as dear to me as an old friend.

Tatyana Simeonovna did not let her voice be heard in the house, but everything went like clockwork, though there were a great many superfluous servants. All of these servants who wore soft shoes without heels, Tatiana Simeonovna considered squeaking shoes in the noise of heels as the most unpleasant things in the world, all of the servants seemed proud of their station and trembled before the old lady, looked upon my husband and me with patronising affection, and evidently did their work with extraordinary contentment.

Regularly every Saturday, all the floors in the house were washed and the rugs beaten, on the first day of the month that Teideyam was performed and holy water sprinkled. Every time that a name's day occurred, Tatyana Semyonovna's, her sons or mine, mine occurred for the first time that autumn, a banquet was given to all the neighbourhood. And all this sort of thing had been done without ever a break in the customs since Tatyana Simeonovna's earliest remembrance. my husband did not interfere in the domestic economy and merely took charge of the management of the farm and the serfs and that occupied him a good deal even in winter he got up very early and was usually gone when i woke he returned generally to morning tea which we drank by ourselves and almost always at this time after the troubles and an anoints of his work

he would appear in that extraordinarily jolly frame of mind which we used to call wild enthusiasm. Oftentimes I tried to induce him to tell me what he did in the morning, and he would relate such absurdities that we almost died laughing. Sometimes I urged him to give me a serious account, and he would restrain himself and tell me. I looked into his eyes at the motion of his lips, and remembered nothing, but I was merely delighted to see him and to hear his voice. Well, what have I been telling you? Let us hear it, he would say, and I could not tell him the first word.

It was so absurd that he should tell me about anything else than our own selves. It scarcely made any difference what it was that he had been doing. It was not until long afterward that I began to understand or feel any interest in his labours. Tatiana Semyonovna did not make her appearance till dinner-time. She drank her tea alone and only sent a messenger to inquire how we had slept. In our special, insanely happy little world, it sounded so strange to hear the voice from her solemn, orderly quarters, so different from ours,

but oftentimes I could not refrain from laughing heartily in reply to the maid who, with folded arms gravely announced that Tatyana Simeonovna has sent to inquire how you feel after your yesterday's ride. And she begs to inform you in regard to herself that she suffered all night long from the neuralgia, and that a stupid dog in the village barked and prevented her from getting any rest. And she also would be pleased to know how you like today's baking, and begs to remark that Taras did not bake the bread today, but that Nikolaushka was allowed to try his hand for the first time. time as an experiment, and has not done at all badly, says she, especially in the rolls, but he cooked the pies too much.

Till dinner time we were very little together. I played, read to myself, he wrote or went out again, but at four o'clock when we had dinner, we went to the drawing-room. Mama Shia sailed out of her room, and several visitors, indigent ladies of noble birth, several of whom we always had at the house, made their appearance. Regularly each day, my husband, in accordance with immemorial custom, offered his mother, his arm to take her out to dinner, but she insisted that he should give me his other, and regularly each day we got into a tangle at the door, which was too narrow for all of us.

Mother presided at dinner, and the conversation proceeded with dignified sobriety and not a little solemnity. The few simple words that my husband and I exchanged made an agreeable contrast to the stiffness of these dinner table conferences. Occasionally disputes arose between mother and son, and they said sarcastic things to one another. I especially enjoyed these disputes and sarcasms, because they served to bring out in all the stronger light the firm and tender love that united them. After dinner, Mamman went into the reception room and sat down in her great armchair, robbed tobacco or cut open the leaves of newly purchased books, while my husband and I would read aloud or go into the drawing room to the piano. We read a great deal during these weeks, but music was our

favourite and supreme enjoyment, for each time it touched new chords in our hearts, and, as it were, discovered each of us to the other again. When I played his favourite piece, he would sit on the sofa at the other end of the room where I could hardly see him, and from very shyness would try to conceal the impression which the music made upon him. But often when he did not expect it I would jump up from the piano, run over to him, and try to detect on his face the traces of the emotion, and unnatural light and moisture in his eyes, which he tried in vain to hide from me. Mammasha often wanted to visit us in the drawing-room,

but she was afraid of interrupting us, and sometimes apparently not looking at us, she would pass through the room with a pretended grave and indifferent face. but I knew that she had no reason to go to her room, and so I would quickly return. In the evening I poured tea in the great reception room, and once more all the people of the house gathered at the table. This solemn seat of ceremony before the polished samovar, and the distribution of the glasses and cups, for a long time filled me with trepidation.

It seemed to me that I was not yet fitted for this responsibility, that I was too young and giddy to turn the forciet of the big samovar, and to put the glass on the butler's salver and say, for Pyotr Ivanovich, for Maria Minichna, and ask her if it is weak enough, and to put in the lumps of sugar for the nurse and the servants. Splendid, splendid, my husband used often to say, just like a grown-up lady, and this confused me more than ever. After tea, Mamma'an played solitaire, or heard Maria Minichna tell fortunes,

then she would kiss us and make the sign of the cross over us, and we would retire to our own rooms. Generally, however, we would sit up till midnight, and this was the best and pleasantest part of the day. He would tell me about his past, we would make plans. Sometimes we would discuss philosophy and do our best to talk low so as not to be heard upstairs, and that no suspicion of it might reach Tatyana Simeonovna,

who believed in early retiring. Sometimes we would get hungry and go softly down to the sideboard, find some cold supper provided by Nikita's thoughtfulness, and eat it in my boudoir by the light of a single candle. We lived quite like visitors in this splendid old mansion, over which brooded the stern spirit of old personified in Tatyana Simeonovna. Not only she, but the servants, the old serving maids, the furniture, and the paintings inspired in me a certain respect, a certain awe,

and a consciousness that we were not exactly fitted for such associations, and that it was our duty to live a circumspect and careful sort of existence here. As I look back upon it now, it seems that much must have been really stiff and uncomfortable. That stern, unchangeable order and that throng of the, lazy, inquisitive people in the house. But then, at that time, that very restraint gave an additional strength to our love. Neither he nor I gave the slightest sign that anything displeased us. On the contrary, he would have resolutely shut his eyes to the fact that it was disagreeable.

Mamunka's valet, Dmitri Siddrov, a great lover of smoking, while we were in the drawing room each day after dinner, went regularly to my husband's study and took tobacco from his drawer, and it was worthwhile to see what merry dismay, Sertegger Michaelich, came to me on his tipto. and, making a warning gesture with his finger and winking, pointed to Dmitri Siddharov, who never suspected that he was suspected. And, when Dmitri Siddroff went out without noticing us, in his joy that all had ended so satisfactorily, as in everything else, my husband said that I was charming and kissed me.

Sometimes this easy-going way, this forgiving disposition, and, as it were apparent indifference, were not pleasing to me. I did not realize that I was open to the same fault, and I called it weakness. Just like a child that does not dare show his will, I said to myself. Ah, my dear, he replied one time, when I told him how much surprised I was at his weakness. Would it be possible for me to be angry with anyone when I'm so happy? It is easier for me to let things go than to try to force others. I was convinced of that long ago, and there is no state where it is impossible to be happy.

And we're having such a good time. I cannot be angry. For me now there is no such thing as bad. It is only pitiful and rather amusing. But the main thing is, Le Mue is the enemy of bien. Would you believe me when I hear the doorbell or read a letter, or simply when I wake up? I have a feeling of terror, terror because I must live,

lest some change may take place, for nothing could be better than what is now. I believed him, but I did not understand him. It was delightful to me, but it seemed to me that it was just as it ought to be, that it could not be otherwise, that it was always so, with all people,

and elsewhere there were other forms of happiness, different, perhaps, but not greater. Thus past the two months, winter came with its cold weather and snowstorms, and though he was still with me, I began to feel the loneliness, began to feel that life was monotonous, and that it offered neither of us anything new, and that we seemed to be returning forever in our old tracks. He began to busy himself more than before with his own affairs, to the neglect of myself, and again my former idea came back to me,

that he had in his soul in a special world from which I was debarred. His perpetual self-complacency irritated me. I loved him no less than before. I was no less happy in his love. But my love had come to a standstill and ceased to grow, and now beside love a new feeling of restlessness began to take possession of my soul. The continuance of love was very insignificant

of the first experience of finding that I loved him. What I long for was activity and not the calmness of a settled life, emotions, perils and self-renunciations instead of thought. I had within me an exuberance of strength which found no field of activity in our quiet life. life. I was attacked by storms of melancholy which I tried to hide from his knowledge, as something naughty, and fits of unnatural tenderness and gaiety that frightened him. He noticed my state of mind even before I did, and proposed that we should go to town, but I begged him not to go and not to change our way of living,

not to destroy our happiness. And indeed I was happy, but it tormented me that this happiness caused me no exertion, no sacrifice, when I was tormented by all the potentiality of labour and self-sacrifice. i loved him and i saw that i was everything to him but i wanted all to see our love i wanted something to come as a stumbling-block in the way of my loving and still i should have loved him my mind and my feelings even were occupied but there was still above and beyond all that another feeling that of youth the necessity for exertion and these found no scope in our quiet life Why did he tell me that we might go to town when that was the only thing that I wanted? If he had not told me so, perhaps I should have understood that the feeling that tormented me was unwholesome nonsense, and my fault, that the very sacrifice which I was searching for was there before me, in the stifling of this feeling. The thought that I had the power of saving myself from melancholy by merely going to town

constantly recurred to me in spite of myself, and at the same time it seemed mean and detestable, simply for my own pleasure to tear him away from all that he loved. But time passed on, the snow piled up higher and higher above the walls of the house, and we were always and forever alone, alone, and still we were always the same in each other's eyes, but yonder somewhere in the brilliancy in the whirl of life were throngs of men and women suffering and rejoicing without a thought of us or our petty existence. Worse than all was my consciousness that each day the habits of our life were forging it into one

definite form, that our sensations were growing dull and corresponded to the smooth, passionless course of time. In the morning we were cheerful, at dinner deferential in the evening affectionate. To do good, said I to myself, it is excellent to do good and live honourable lives, as he says. We still have time for that, but there is something for which now and only now I have the requisite power. This was not what I wanted. I needed a struggle. What I needed was that feeling should guide life, and not that life should guide feeling. I wanted to go with him to the edge of an abyss and say, hear a step and I will throw myself over, hear emotion, and I've gone to destruction. And for him, turning pale, to seize me in his strong arms, hold me back over it till my heart grew

cold within me, and then carry me away wherever he pleased. This state of affairs had a bad effect upon my health, and I began to suffer in my nerves. One morning it was worse than usual. It came back from the office out of spirits, which was a rare event for him. I immediately noticed it and asked him what the matter was, but he was not inclined to tell me, saying that it was not worthwhile and there was no need of it. I afterwards learned that the police Ispravnik had called upon our peasantry, and, out of an unfriendly disposition to my husband, had made illegal claims on them and threatened them. My husband could not as yet look with any degree of coolness on all this, a merely wretched and impertinent piece of business.

He was angry and therefore did not wish to talk with me about it. But it seemed to me that he did not want to tell me about it because he considered me still a child who could not understand what interested him. I turned from him and said nothing and sent to invite Maria Manichna, a visitor of ours to tea. After tea, which I brought to a most remarkably hasty conclusion, I took Maria Manichna into the drawing-room and began to talk in very loud tone about some trifle or other of absolutely no interest to me. He came into the room and from time to time looked at us. These glances of his had such a peculiar effect on me that I had all the time stronger and stronger inclination, to talk and even to be merry. Everything that I said, as well as everything that Maria

Minichna said, seemed to me laughable. Without making any remark, he went off to his study and closed the door behind him. As soon as he was out of hearing, all my gaiety suddenly vanished, so that Maria Manichna was struck by it and asked me what was the matter. Without answering her, I sat down on the sofa and felt a strong inclination to cry. And what does he think of this performance? I asked myself, some trifle which seems important to him, but just let him try to tell me, I will show him that That's nonsense. No, he must think that I have no sense. He must need to humiliate me with his majestic calmness,

and always be so superior to me. But I'm as right as he is, though it is so stupid and dull here. Though I have such a desire to live and stir about, I said to myself, and not to always stay in one place and feel how time is passing. I want to advance, and every day, every hour I want something new, but he wants to stand stock still and hold me back too. And how easy it would be for him. For this it is not necessary to take me to town.

It needs only for him to be like me not to make it a splay, not to put checks on oneself, but simply to live. This is the very advice that he gave me, but he himself does not follow it. That's what the trouble is. I felt that my heart was filling with tears and that I was angry with him. This exhibition of temper alarmed me and I went to him. He was sitting in his study writing. When he heard my steps, he glanced up for a moment, calmly and indifferently,

and went on with his writing. This look of his displeased me. instead of going to him i stood by the table at which he was writing and opening a book i began to turn the leaves of it once more he stopped and looked at me musha said he you were out of sorts i answered with a chilling glance which said what makes you ask mere curiosity he shook his head with a sweet affectionous smile but for the first time i did not give him an answering smile what has been the trouble with you to-day i asked why wouldn't you tell me a mere trifle a slight unpleasantness here replied. However, I can tell you now, two peasants have been summoned to town, but I did not give him a chance to finish his story. Why don't you tell me this when I asked you at tea? I should have made some foolish remark, for I was angry then. But then was the time that I wanted to know. Why? Because you think that I can never be of any help to you. What is that? he exclaimed, throwing down his pen. I think that I cannot live without you. You not only help me in everything, but you do everything.

How did you get such an idea? he cried, laughing. I live only only. I live only. I live only. I live only. You know, for you. Everything seems good to me. I am happy simply because you are here, because you need, yes, I know that I am a dear child who needs to be calmed, said I, in such a tone that he was amazed, and apparently for the first time noticing what a state of mind I was in, gazed at me. I don't want calmness. You have enough, quite enough of us both, I added. Well, now you see what the trouble was, he began hurriedly interrupting me, apparently fearing to let me say all that I had in mind. How should you decide the question? I don't want to now, I replied.

though I had a strong desire to hear him, I still took a keen delight in disturbing his equanimity. I don't want to play at life, I want to live, said I, just as you do. Over his face, which always answered so readily and quickly to every emotion, passed an expression of pain and earnest attention. I want to live in the same way as you do, on an equality with you. But words failed me. Such grief, such deep grief, was expressed in his face. He was silent for a little. Yes, but you do live an unquality with me, don't you? he asked,

except that I and not you have to deal with police, Spravniks and peasants. No, not in this thing alone, I said. For heaven's sake, understand me, my love, he went on to say. I know that it is always painful for us to have anxieties. I've had experience of life, and I knew this. I love you, and I really cannot help wishing to save you from anxiety. My life consists in this, in love for thee, and so don't disturb my life. You are always right, I cried, not looking at him.

I felt annoyed that his soul had again become clear and calm when mine was or filled with vexation and a feeling like repentance. Marsha, what is the matter with you? he exclaimed. The question is not whether I am right or you are right, but something quite different. What have you to complain of against me? Don't speak rashly, think it all over and tell me all that you have in your mind. You are angry with me, and of course you must have good reason, but do let me understand wherein I am to blame.

But how could I tell him what was in my soul? The very fact that he understood me so immediately, that I was again like a child before him, that I could not do anything without his understanding all about it and even foreseeing it. All this made me still more indignant. I have nothing at all to complain of against you, said I. Simply everything seems tedious to me, and I do not wish it to be so. But you say it must be so, and there again you were right. I said this and did not look at him.

I attained my purpose. His calmness disappeared, pain and apprehension were in his face. Masha, he exclaimed in a low, agitated voice, "'This is no trifling matter, what you are doing now to me. "'Now our fate is being decided. "'I beg of you not to reply to me but to listen. "'Why do you want to torture me?' "'But I interrupted him.

"'I know that you were right. "'You had better not speak. "'You were right,' said I, coldly, "'as though it were not myself, but an evil spirit that spoke in me. "'If you knew what you were doing,' said he in a trembling voice. "'I burst into tears and it gave me relief. "'He sat near me and said nothing. "'I was sorry for him and ashamed of myself.

and vexed at what I had done. I did not look at him. I had an impression that he must be looking at me, either sternly or in perplexity, at that moment. I looked up. His sweet, affectionist glance was fixed upon me, as though asking my forgiveness. I seized his hand and said, "'Forgue me, I myself did not know what I was saying. Yes, but I know what you said, and that what you said was the truth.' "'What?' I asked. "'We must go to Petersburg,' said he. "'There is nothing for us to do here.' just as you please i replied he took me in his arms and kissed me forgive me he murmured i was to blame toward you that evening i played a long time to him and as he walked up and down the room he kept repeating something he had the habit of whispering and i often asked him what he was saying and he always after a little thought told me pretty nearly what he was repeating what he was repeatedly poetry and sometimes terrible rubbish but i was enabled to tell by it how he felt in his mind what are you repeating to yourself i asked he said he said he

stopped walking, and after a little thought he smiled and repeated two lines by Liamontov. But he, in Sensate, begged for tempests, as though in tempest peace were found. No, he is more than a man, he knows everything, said I to myself. How is it possible not to love him? I jumped up, took his arm, and began to walk with him, trying to keep step. Well, he asked with a smile looking at me. Well, I replied in a whisper, and a strangely merry frame of mine took possession of both of us, and taking longer and longer steps, and standing higher and higher on our tiptoes, and with the same step, to the great indignation of Gurdigori, and to the amazement of Mamasha, who was

playing patience in the reception room. We rushed through all the rooms into the dining room, and there we stopped looking at each other and burst into hearty laughter. At the end of a fortnight, just before Christmas, we were in Petersburg. End of Part 2, Chapter 1. Part 2, Chapter 2 of Family Happiness. This is Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org.

Family Happiness by Leo Tolstoy, translated by Nathan Haskell Dahl. Part 2, Chapter 2. Our journey to Petersburg, our week in Moscow, his relatives and mine, our settling down in new quarters, the road, strange cities, faces. All this went by like a dream. It was also varied, so new and so gay, it was also warm and brightly lighted by his forethought, his love, that the quietest country existence seemed long past and insignificant. To my great amazement, instead of a worldly pride and coolness which I'd expected to find in society people, I was met by all with such sincere affection and heartiness, not merely by my relatives, but strangers, that it seemed to me as if they had thought of me were only waiting for me to have their happiness complete. Most unexpectedly also, my husband discovered many acquaintances in the circle of society which

seemed to be the best of all. He had never spoken to me of them, and oftentimes I thought it's strange, and not altogether pleasant, to hear him pass such harsh judgments on some of these people, who seemed to me so nice. I could not understand why he was so curt in his treatment of them, and why he tried to avoid many acquaintances whom I liked. It seemed to me the more intimately acquainted you become with good people, the better, and they were all good. well you see how we are situated said he before we left the country here we are little creases but there we shall be very far from rich and so we can stay only in town till easter and not go into society otherwise we shall get into trouble yes and for your sake i shouldn't wish Why society, I asked. Only let us go to the theatre, see our relatives, hear the opera and good music,

and we will return to the country even before Easter. But as soon as we reach Petersburg, these plans were forgotten. I found myself suddenly in such a new, delightful world. I was occupied with many pleasures, such new interest rose up before me, that I forthwith, though quite unconsciously, recanted all the past and all the plans that I had made. Oh, that was such nonsense! I had not even begun to live. This is the real life.

Yes, what more is there in store for us? I asked myself. The restlessness and touches of melancholy which had disquieted me in the country suddenly and entirely disappeared like magic. My love for my husband became calmer, and here the thought that my husband's love might be growing less never occurred to me. Yes, and I could not doubt his love. My every thought was immediately understood, my every feeling divine to every desire fulfilled by him.

His excessive calmness here disappeared, or at least, no longer annoyed me. Moreover, I was conscious that he still loved me, even more than before. Oftentimes after making a call on a new acquaintance, or after having had company at our own apartments, when I inwardly trembling for fear of committing some blunder, fulfilled the duties of a hostess, he would say, "'Ay, duh, little girl, famous, don't be worried, truly it was capital.' And I was very happy.

Soon after our arrival, he wrote to his mother, and, when he called me to add a line, he was not willing for me to read what he had written, but afterward, of course, I had my way in Reddit. You would not know Marsha, he wrote, and I myself hardly know her. Where did she get this gentle, gracious self-confidence, her affableness, her clever wit, and her sweetness? And it is also simple, so gentle, so kindly. Everyone is enthusiastic about her, and I myself cannot love her enough,

even if it were possible to love her more. Ah, so that is what I am, is it? I said to myself, and I felt so happy and good, and it even seemed to me that I loved him more than ever. my success with all our acquaintances was entirely unexpected to me on every side i heard that i had immensely pleased this uncle that there a certain aunt was quite crazy over me another man told me that there were no such women as i was in all petersburg another assured me it was quite within my power to be the most exquisite woman in society More than all, my husband's cousin, the Princess Dee, an elderly society lady who had taken a sudden fondness for me quite above all, told me the most flattering things, which quite turned my head. When, for the first time, this cousin invited me to go to a ball and ask my husband's consent, he turned to me with a slightly crafty smile and asked if I wanted to go.

I nodded my head in a sign of assent, and was conscious that my face flushed. The culprit confesses what she wants, said he, with a good-natured laugh. Why you said that it would be impossible to go into society, and that you did not like it, I replied, smiling and looking at him with a supplicating glance. If you would like very much to go, then we will, said he. Good, nothing could be better. So you would like to go, very much, he asked again. I made no reply. Society is not a great misfortune in itself, he went on to say, but the unattainable ambitions of the world are bad and unworthy.

Certainly we must go, and we will, said he, firmly in conclusion. To tell you the truth, said I, there is nothing in the world that I was so anxious for as to go to this ball. We went, and the enjoyment that I experienced exceeded all my expectations. At the ball it seemed to me more than ever that I was the centre around which everything revolved, that it was for my sake alone that the great drawing room was lighted up, the music played, and all this throng of people admiring me was gathered together. All, from their hairdresser and chambermaid to the young men who danced and the old men who looked on, had seemed to me, spoke to me and made me feel that they liked me.

The general consensus of opinion in regard to me at that ball, and reported to me by the Princess D, agreed in this, that I was quite unlike any other woman, that there were a peculiar rustic simplicity and charm about me. This triumph so elated me that I coolly told my husband how much I should like to go to two or three more balls this year, so as to be satisfied for once, I added, acting against my conscience. My husband consented, and the first time went with me

with apparent willingness, being pleased with my success, and, as it seemed, entirely forgetting or disavowing what he had said before. At last he evidently began to grow tired of it, and to be weary of the life that we led. But such was not the case with me, even if I noticed occasionally his significantly serious look fixed questioning me upon me, I affected to ignore its meaning. I was so carried away by this suddenly kindled liking that all these strangers seemed to show me, by this atmosphere of elegance, these pleasures and novelties, which I now for the first time in my life experienced. His moral influence, restraining me, seemed so suddenly to disappear. It was so agreeable to me to feel that in this new world I was not only in equality with him,

but even stood on a higher footing, and therefore could love him more and deeper than before, but I could not understand how he could find anything unpleasant for me in worldly life. I experienced a new feeling of pride and self-respect when, on entering the ballroom all eyes were turned upon me, but he, apparently feeling ashamed to lay claim to me before all that throng, made haste to leave me and disappeared in the black mass of dresscoats. Just wait, I often thought, wait till we go home and then you will find out, and know for whose sake I have striven to be so handsome and brilliant, and whom I love out of all these that have surrounded me this evening.

It really seemed to me that I rejoiced at my successors merely for the sake of being in the condition of sacrificing them to him. One way I thought in which this society life might be injurious to me was the possibility that I might fascinate some of the men who met me in society and aroused my husband's jealousy. But he had such a firm confidence in me he seemed so calm and equitable, and all these young men seemed to me so contemptible, in comparison with him, that the only danger in society, so far as my observations went,

was not alarming to me. But still, the attentions of many of these young men in society added to my conceit, fanned my selfishness, caused me to reflect that there was considerable merit in my love towards my husband, and made my behaviour towards him more independent and perhaps careless. Ah, I saw how you had a very lively conversation with N-N, said I one time, as we were returning from a ball, and threatened him with my finger, mentioning by name one of the best-known ladies of Petersburg with whom he had really been talking that evening. I said this in order to stir him up, because he was extraordinarily silent and blue.

"'Oh, why say such a thing? And for you to say it, Masha,' he muttered through his teeth, and frowning as though from physical pain. How little this concerns you and me. Leave that to others. These false relations have the power of destroying our peace of mind, and I still hope that the reality will return. I was ashamed and said nothing. "'Will it return, Masha? What do you think?' he asked. "'It never has been destroyed, and never will be destroyed,' said I. And at that time it really seemed to me that such was the case. God grant that it may not, he exclaimed, for then it would be time for us to return to the country.

But this was the only time that he spoke to me, the rest of the time it seemed to me, that he was enjoying himself as much as I was, and I was so happy and gay. If sometimes he felt the sense of tedium, I consoled myself by thinking how bored I had been for his sake in the country. If our relations were somewhat altered, then all would be the same as before as soon as summer came, and we were again alone with Tatyana Simeonovna in our home in Nikolska, us the winter passed imperceptibly away and contrary to our plans we spent Easter tide also in Petersburg the following week just as we were all ready to start

everything was packed up and my husband having purchased various gifts and flowers and articles for home use in the country was in a remarkably gay and affectionate mood his cousin the Princess Dee came to see us and proceeded to urge us to stay until Saturday so as to go to the Countess R's reception She declared that the Countess I was very anxious to have me be present and that Prince M, who was at that time in Petersburg,

and ever since the last ball had wished to make my acquaintance, was going to the route simply for this, and insisted that I was the most beautiful woman in Russia. The whole city was going to be there, and in one word it wouldn't be anything if I did not go. My husband was at the other end of the room, engaged in conversation with someone. Well, you will come, will you not, Marie? asked our cousin. We were going to the country, day off,

after tomorrow I replied doubtfully and looked at my husband. Our eyes met. He turned hastily away. I will tell him to stay, said our cousin, and we will go Saturday and turn all heads. What? But this would upset all our plans, and besides, we're all packed, I replied, beginning to yield a little. Yes, it would be better for her to pay her respects to the prince this evening, said my husband, from the end of the room in a repressed tone of indignation, which I had never before heard from him. Ah, he is jealous, now I see it for the first time, remarked our cousin. But, you see, I'm not speaking in behalf of the Prince, Sertigay Mikhailovich, but for all of us.

How anxious the Countess R is to have her come. This depends wholly upon her, rejoined my husband, coldly, and went out. I saw that he was more than usually excited. This troubled me, and so I gave our cousin no definite answer. As soon as she had gone, I went to my husband. He was walking thoughtfully back and forth and did not see or hear me when I stole on Tiptoe into the room. He is recalling his dear Nikolski home. I said to myself as I looked at him.

And the morning coffee in the bright reception room and his fields and his peasants in the evenings in the parlour and our mysterious midnight suppers. No, I said to myself decidedly, all the balls in the world and the honeyed words of all its princes would not weigh in exchange for his joyous moods for his gentle caresses. I was going to tell him that I was not going to the route,

that I did not care to go, when he suddenly looked up, and on seeing me, frowned and the sweetly thoughtful expression of his face changed. Once more, keen sagacity, wisdom and patronising calmness appeared in his expression. He was unwilling for me to look upon him simply as a man. It was essential for him to always stand before me like a demigod on a pedestal. What is it you want, my dear, he asked, turning towards me with calm indifference. I made no reply.

It vexed my very soul to have him wear a mask before me, to have him unwilling to be as I liked him best. So he would like to stay and go to the reception, he asked. I did want to, but I see that it does not suit you. besides we're all packed i added never before had he looked at me so coldly never before had he spoken to me so coldly i'm not going till tuesday and i will have the things unpacked he said so you can go if you would like you will please do me the favour of going i shall not leave town As always when he was agitated, he began to stride up and down the room, and he did not look at me. I really do not understand you, said I, without moving from where I stood, and following him with my eyes. You say that you are always calm, you'd never said such a thing. Why do you speak to me so strangely?

For your sake I was ready to deprive myself of this pleasure, and you speak to me in such a sarcastic tone, in such a way as you have never spoken with me before and compel me to go. Well now, you make a sacrifice of yourself. He laid a special stress on that word. and I make a sacrifice of myself, which is better, a contest of magnanimity. Such is the basis of family happiness, is it not? This was the first time I'd heard him make use of such bitterly sarcastic words, and his sarcasm did not touch me, but rather offended me,

and the bitterness did not frighten me but hardened me. Could it be that he said such things? He who always feared formality in our relations? He who was always so simple and true? And for what reason? Simply because I wanted to sacrifice for him a pleasure in which I could see no harm, and because a moment before this I had understood and loved him so, our roles were exchanged.

He avoided my simple and straightforward words, and I was in search of them. You have changed very much, I said with the sigh. What crime have I been guilty of in your eyes? It is not this reception, but some old grudge that you have in your heart against me. Why this lack of frankness? Once you did not avoid it, speak honestly and tell me what fault you have to find with me. What will he say to this, I asked myself, remembering with self-congratulation,

that not once during the winter had he had cause to find fault with me. I went into the middle of the room so that he would have to pass close by me and I looked at him. He will come to me and he will take me into his arms and that will be the end of it, I thought, and I even began to feel sorry that I should not have the chance to show him how much in the wrong he was. But he paused at the end of the room and looked at me. So you still don't understand me, he asked. No? Well then I will explain it to you.

The feeling that I have and cannot help having fills me with mortification with the deepest mortification. with the deepest mortification. He paused, evidently startled by the harsh sound of his voice. Well, what is it, I ask, with tears of indignation in my eyes. It is mortifying to me because this prince thinks you are beautiful, and because you are, therefore, eager to make his acquaintance, forgetting your husband and your own self and your dignity as a woman, and because you are unwilling to understand the feelings

that your husband must cherish in your stead, since you seem to have no sense of your dignity as a woman. On the contrary, you come and tell your husband that you are, sacrificing yourself. In other words, to be presented to His Highness is a great honour for me, but I'm willing to sacrifice it. The longer he spoke, the more excited he became, through the sound of his own voice, for this voice sounded harsh, cutting and brutal. I had never seen him so or expected to. The blood rushed to my heart, I was frightened, but at the same time I was supported by a sense of undeserved injury, and have insulted pride, and I was bound to have my revenge.

I've been expecting this for a long time, I said, go on, go on. I know, no. I know, not what you have been expecting, he continued, but I had good reason to look for the worse, seeing you every day growing more and more absorbed in the vileness, the idleness, the luxury of this senseless society. And I have expected this very thing that, today, fills me with shame and pain such as I never felt before, pain for myself when this friend of yours, with her vulgar hands, pride into my heart, and began to talk about jealousy, my jealousy. And toward whom? A man with whom neither of us is acquainted. And you, as though purposely, have no desire to understand me, and you speak of making a sacrifice for me? Of whom? And shame for you, shame for your

degradation. Sacrifice indeed, he cried. Ah, now we see a husband's power, I said to myself, to insult and humiliate a woman who has not done the slightest thing wrong. This is what it means by a husband rights, but I won't give in to them. No, I will not make any sacrifice for you, I said, feeling how unnaturally my nostrils were dilated, and how the blood was rushing to my face. I shall most certainly go to the route Saturday. Nothing shall hinder me. well god give you much pleasure but all is at an end between us he cried carried away by uncontrollable rage henceforth you shall not torment me i was a fool when i he began again but his lips twitched and he restrained himself by an evident effort from finishing the sentence that he had begun i was afraid of him and loathed him at that instant i had many things that i wanted to tell him so as to retaliate for his insulting remarks but if i had opened my lips i should have burst into tears and lost my dignity before him i left the room without saying a word but as soon as i ceased to hear the sound of his steps i was overwhelmed by the horror of what we had done I felt terribly at the thought that the bond on which my happiness depended was torn asunder forever,

and I felt strongly drawn to return. But is he sufficiently calm, I asked myself, to understand me if I should silently stretch out my hand and look at him? Would he understand my magnanimity? Or would he accept my repentance and forgive me, with the consciousness of being in the right and with proud calmness? And why? Why should he whom I have loved insult me so abominably?

I went, not to him, but to my chamber, where I sat long alone weeping, remembering with horror each word of the conversation that had passed between us. Substituting for these words are the friendly words, and then again with dismay and a sense of insult, recalling the whole scene. When I went to tea in the evening and met my husband in the presence of S, who was staying with us, I had the consciousness that this day a wide abyss had opened between us. Esk asked me when we were going. Before I had time to reply, my husband said,

Next Tuesday. We are going to the reception at the Countess's ars. You intend to go, do you not? he asked, turning to me. I was terrified at the sound of this simple question and looked timidly at my husband. His eyes were fixed directly upon me. Their expression was angry and sarcastic. His voice was steady and cold. Yes, I replied.

In the evening when we were alone, he came to me, and, holding out his hand, please forget what I said to you, said he. I took his hand, a smile trembled over my lips and the tears were ready to well up in my eyes. But he withdrew his hand, and as though fearing a sentimental scene he sat down. in an arm-chair at quite a distance from me i wonder if he can consider himself wholly in the right i thought and i was ready for a reconciliation our request not to go to the route was on my tongue's end i must write my mother that we postponed our return said he otherwise she will be anxious and when do you expect to go i asked on tuesday after the reception he replied i hope that you are not doing it on my account said i looking into his eyes but his eyes merely looked and gave me no reply as though a veil would drawn over them between him and me. His face suddenly seemed to me old and disagreeable. We went to the route, and to all appearances our relations were again most friendly,

but really these relations were absolutely unlike what they had been. At the reception I was sitting with other ladies when the prince came to me and I was obliged to stand up in order to talk with him. In standing I involuntarily looked for my husband, and caught sight of him at the other end of the drawing room. He looked at me and turned away. I suddenly felt such a sense of mortification and pain that I grew painfully confused and blushed to the roots of my hair under the prince's gaze. But I was compelled to stand and listen to what he said while he surveyed me from head to foot. Our conversation was not of long duration.

There was no place for him to sit near me and he evidently saw that I felt very much constrained. We talked about the last ball, about where I lived in the summer and other things. As he left me, expressed his desire to make my husband's acquaintance, and I saw the meet and talk with each other at the end of the room. The prince was evidently talking about me, because in the midst of a sentence he looked around to where I was and smiled. My husband's face suddenly flushed, he made a low bow and turned away from the prince.

I also blushed, for I was mortified on account of the remark which the prince had evidently made about me, and especially at my husband. It seemed to me that all must have observed my awkward bashfulness at the time that the prince was talking with me, and must have noticed my husband's strange behaviour. God knows how they may have interpreted that, Was it possible they knew of my quarrel with my husband?

My cousin brought me home and on the way we talked about my husband. I could not refrain from telling her everything that had occurred between us because of this unhappy reception. She calmed me saying that this was a perfectly insignificant misunderstanding, such as were very frequent in married life and led to no consequences. She explained to me what from her point of view my husband's character was. She declared that he was reticent and proud. I agreed with her, and it seemed to me that I myself began now to have a calm, and better appreciation of him.

But then when my husband and I were alone together again, this judgment of him lay like a crime on my conscience, and I was conscious that the abyss that separated us had grown wider than ever. End of Part 2, Chapter 2. Part 2, Chapter 3 of Family Happiness. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain.

For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. Family Happiness by Leo Tolstoy, translated by Nathan Haskell Dahl. Part 2, Chapter 3 Henceforth, our life and relations underwent a complete change. It was no longer as pleasant as before to be alone together. Questions arose which we avoided, and it was easier for us to talk in the presence of a third person than when by ourselves. Whenever the talk turned on country life or a ball, we felt that we were treading on dangerous ground,

and we avoided each other's eyes. We both seemed to feel where in lay the abyss which separated us, and tried to avoid falling into it. I was persuaded that he was proud and passionate and that it was necessary to be on my guard not to irritate him. He was persuaded that I could not live without society, that the country was not to my mind, and that it was necessary to give in to this unhappy taste.

And we both avoided direct reference to these subjects, and both judged the other falsely. We had both ceased long ago, to be in each other's eyes the most perfect people in the world, but made comparisons with others and secretly judged each other. I became ill before we left Petersburg, and instead of going to the country we took a summer place near the city, and my husband went alone to see his mother. When he went I was sufficiently recovered to go with him, but he insisted that I should stay behind, alleging, as an excuse, that he was afraid for my health. I felt that, in reality, he had no fear

about my health, but was afraid that we should not be happy in the country. I was not very urgent, and I stayed behind. Without him it was dull and lonely, but when he came back I discovered that he did not bring into my life what he had once done. Our former relations, when every thought unshared with him caused the impression of being guilty of a crime, when every act, every word of his seemed to me the model of perfection, when from very joy in looking at each other, we felt like laughing at every little thing. These relations passed so insensibly into others. And to the that we could not tell what had become of them. Each of us had separate interests and occupations which we no longer thought of sharing.

It even began to seem no longer mortifying that we each had our own special world from which the other was excluded. We became used to this idea, and at the end of a year, the boys ceased to dance in our eyes when we looked at each other. His boyish fits of gaiety, in which we shared, entirely ceased. His lenience, which formerly roused my indignation, and his indifference to everything, disappeared. there was nothing more of that significant glance which once confused and delighted me no longer did we share in our prayers and our enthusiasms and indeed it now happened that we saw a little of each other he was constantly away on journeys and he had no fear or regret at leaving me alone i went constantly into society where i had no need of him

we had no more scenes or open quarrels and i endeavoured to satisfy his requirements he fulfilled all my desires and to all outward appearance we still loved each other When we were together, which happened rarely, I had no sensation of pleasure or emotion or confusion any more than as though I were alone. I knew very well that he was my husband and not a stranger, but a worthy man, my husband whom I knew as well as myself. I was persuaded that I could foretell all that he would do or say, and how he would look at any matter, and if his actions or views disappointed my expectations, then it seemed to me that he was mistaken.

I had nothing to expect from him. In a word, he was my husband, and that was all. It seemed to me that this was so, and inevitably so, that there never could be and never had been other relations between us. When he went away, especially at first, I felt terribly lonely, when deprived of his support, I realised, as never before, the meaning of it. When he returned, I would throw myself into his arms with joy, and yet within two hours I had entirely forgotten this joy. It had quite passed out of my memory, and I had nothing to say to him. Only in these quiet, sober moments of affection, which we sometimes had, it seemed to be. to me that there was something wrong, that there was a pain in my heart, and it seemed to me

that I read the same impression in his eyes. I felt that this affection had a limit, beyond which it seemed to me he had no desire and I no power to go. Sometimes I felt some regret, but I never allowed myself time to meditate on the reason for it, and I tried to forget this vague melancholy by plunging into all the diversions which were always within my reach. Society life, which from the very first had dazzled me with its brilliancy and its power of flattering my conceit, quickly attained complete ascendancy over my inclinations and became a second habit with me and imposed its fetters upon me and usurped in my mind all the place to which thought was rightfully entitled i never stayed by myself alone and i was afraid to look my position fairly in the face all my time from my waking hour late in the morning till i went to bed late at night was full and even when i did not go out there was something to occupy me i was neither happy nor unhappy but it seemed to me that it must always be this way and never change thus passed three years and our relations remained the same it seemed as though everything remained stationary congealed and unable to change either for the better or the worse during these three years of our married life too important events occurred but neither of them brought about any change in my life they were the birth of my first baby and the death of tatyana simonovna

at first the feeling of motherhood took possession of me with such force and such unexpected exultation welled up in my heart that i thought a new life was was going to begin for me. But after two months when I was able once more to go out, this feeling, growing weaker and weaker, changed in the habitual and cold fulfillment of duty. My husband, on the contrary, from the time of the birth of our oldest son, became his old self again, gentle, unruffled, contented with staying at home, and he poured out all his affection and gaiety upon the child. Oftentimes, when, dressed for the ball, I went into the nursery to make the sign of the cross over my child, I would find my husband there. I noticed his reproachful and sternly observant glance fixed upon me,

and my conscience would upbraid me. I would suddenly repent of my indifference to my child, and ask myself, can it be that I'm worse than other women? But what can I do, I ask myself? I love my son, but I cannot spend all my time with him. It would be tiresome, and not for anything in the world would I make a pretense. His mother's death was a great grief for him.

It was hard, as he said, to live without her at Nikolskaya. But, though I also missed her and sympathised with my husband's sorrow, I found now much more pleasure and comfort in the country. During all these three years we lived, for the most part, in the city, spending only two months one summer in the country, and the third year we went abroad. We spent the summer at the baths. I was then 21 years old, our circumstances were, I supposed, in flourishing condition. I did not expect from domestic life anything more than it already gave. Everybody whom I knew, it seemed to me, was fond of me. My health was excellent, my toilets were the handsomest at the baths.

I knew that I was pretty, the weather was lovely, a particular atmosphere of beauty and elegance surrounded me, and I felt very light-hearted. I was not as light-hearted as I used to be at Nikolskaya, when I had the consciousness that I was happy in myself, when I was happy because I deserved to be, when my happiness was great, but was capable of being greater, and when I longed for still greater joy. Then it was another thing. But this summer also, everything was delightful. I had nothing to desire, I had nothing to hope for, I had nothing to fear, and it seemed to me that my life was full and my conscience was untroubled. Out of all the young men that season there was not one whom I should have singled out for special

distinction, or should have preferred, even to old Prince Kay, our envoy, who paid me great attention. One was too young, another too old, there was a fair-haired Englishman, a Frenchman with an imperial. To all of them I felt perfectly indifferent, yet all of them were indispensable to me. All these faces had the same monotonous lack of distinction, and yet they found formed part of the joyous atmosphere of life which shed its light upon me. Only one of them, an Italian, the Marquese D, attracted my attention more than the others by his absurd way of showing his admiration of me.

He never missed an opportunity of being with me, of selecting me as his partner at the hops, of riding with me, of playing casino, etc., and of telling me how beautiful I was. Several times I saw him from our windows, loitering near the house, and often the disagreeable boldness of his brilliant eyes made me blush and turn away.

he was young and handsome and elegant and strangely enough his smile in the expression of his forehead were like my husband's though vastly more attractive i was amazed by this resemblance though on the whole in his lips in his eyes in his long chin instead of the charming expression of goodness and ideal serenity peculiar to my husband there was in him something coarse and animal i surmised then that he was in love with me i sometimes thought of him with proud pity i sometimes tried to soothe him to bring him to a state of quiet trustful friendship but he bitterly resented these attempts and continued unpleasantly to disturb me with his passion unexpressed it is true but ready at any moment to break forth i did not acknowledge it to myself but i was afraid of this man and against my will i often thought of him my husband had made acquaintance with him and treated him with even more coolness than hortier than the rest of our acquaintances to whom he was only the husband of his wife at the end of the season i was taken ill and did not leave my room for a fortnight when for the first time after my illness i came out one evening to hear the music i learned that while i was housed the long-expected lady s a renowned beauty had arrived a group gathered around me and i was greeted warmly but a much more interesting circle was attracted around the newly arrived lioness. The sole topic of conversation, so far as I could learn, was this lady and her beauty. She was pointed out to me, and truly she was charming, but I was disagreeably impressed by the conceited expression on her face, and I said so. This day everything that had before seemed bright

and gay was wearisome to me. On the next day Lady S arranged an excursion to the castle, but I declined to go. I was almost the only one left behind, and everything had undergone a complete transformation in my eyes. Everybody and everything seemed to me stupid and tiresome. I felt like crying, and I wanted to finish the baths as soon as possible and return to Russia. At the bottom of my heart there was a strange, wicked feeling, but I still would not acknowledge it to myself. I pretended that I was ill and ceased to go into large gatherings. Only in the morning, occasionally I went out to drink the waters, or, with L.M., a Russian lady of our acquaintance, rode into the suburbs. My husband was absent at this time, having gone for a short visit to Heidelberg,

until I should have finished the course of treatment, when he would return and take me back to Russia. Once Lady S induced all the people to go on some pleasure excursion, and after dinner L. M. and I drove to the castle. While we slowly drove along in our carriage over the winding highway, between the century-old chestnut trees, through which could be seen far away those exquisitely beautiful suburbs of Baden, bathed in the rays of the setting sun, We conversed seriously as we had never done before. L.M., though I had known her long,

now for the first time appeared to me a beautiful, intelligent woman with whom one might safely indulge in confidences, and with whom it was delightful to be on friendly terms. We talked about our families, our children, the emptiness of Baden life, we both longed to get back to Russia, to our country homes, and we fell into a mood at once pleasurable and melancholy. Under the influence of these serious thoughts and feelings,

we went into the castle. Within the walls it was shady and cool, above our heads the sunlight played on the ruins. We heard steps and voices. Through the gate, as in a frame, we could see that charming view of Baden, which, nevertheless, to us Russians, seem so cold. We sat down to get breath, and in silence looked at the sunset. The voices grew louder, and I thought that I heard my name mentioned. My attention was attracted, and I could not help hearing every word that they said. They were the Marqueséé-D and his friend the Frenchman, whom I also knew.

They were talking about me and Lady S. The Frenchman was making comparisons between us, and discanting on our respective charms. He said nothing derogatory, and yet the blood rushed to my heart when I heard what he said. He entered into an elaborate eulogy of what was beautiful in me and in Lady S. I was the mother of a child already, but Lady S was only 19. My hair was prettier, but on the other hand Lady S had a more graceful figure. Lady S was of high birth, while your friend, said he,

is nothing but one of those petty Russian princesses who are beginning to flock here. in such numbers. He concluded with the observation that I had done excellently well not to enter the list as Lady S's rival, and that my day was practically over as far as Baden was concerned. I am sorry for her. Unless indeed she should take it into her head to console herself with you, he added, with a gay and cruel laugh. If she should, I should follow her, rudely exclaimed the voice with the Italian accent. Happy mortal, he can still love, sneered the Frenchman. Love, exclaimed the Italian, and then paused. I cannot help loving. Without love, there is no life. to turn life into a romance this is the one thing that is beautiful and my romance never breaks off in the middle and this one i shall carry out to the very end bon chants mon ami said the frenchman

we did not hear any more because they passed around the corner and soon their steps sounded on the other side they came downstairs and in a moment or two they entered through a side door and stopped an amazement to see us i blushed when the marquise joined me and felt terribly when as we came out of the castle he offered me his arm i could not refuse it and he and i followed l m who started for the carriage under the escort of his friend i was mortified at what the frenchman had said about me though in my heart of hearts i recognized that he had only expressed my own convictions but the marquese's words had surprised and disturbed me by their audacity i was tormented by the thought that i had overheard what he said and yet it did not in the least make him abash to see me i felt annoyed to have him so close to me and without looking at him without answering him and trying to take his arm in such a ways not to hear his words i hurried after el m and the frenchman the marquisite said something about the exquisite view about the unexpected pleasure of meeting me and many other things still but i did not heed what he said i was thinking at this moment of my husband of my son of russia somehow i felt a story of my own and i felt a story of my own and i felt a story of my son of russia somehow i felt a strange sense of shame and pity and longing, I was anxious to get home as quickly as possible and go to my lovely room in the Hotel de Bard in order to think over all that had so suddenly arisen in my soul. But L.M. went slowly. It was still quite a distance to the carriage. My cavalier, it seemed to me, stubbornly slackened his steps, as though with the express purpose of keeping me

back. This must not be, I said to myself, and tried hard to walk faster. But he actually detained me and even pressed my arm. L. M. disappeared around a turn, we were left absolutely alone. I was overwhelmed with terror. Excuse me, said I, coldly, and tried to disengage my arm, but the lace on my sleeve caught on one of his buttons. Bending over, he tried to detach it,

and his ungloved fingers touched my hand. A strange, new feeling, not of horror, nor yet pleasurable, made a cold shiver run down my back. I looked at him with the intention of expressing, by a cutting glance, all the contempt which I felt for him, but my eyes failed to express that, they expressed only apprehension and agitation. His moist, burning eyes, in close proximity to my face, looked passionately at me, at my neck, at my bosom, his two hands clasped my arm above the wrist, his part of lips said something, were uttering a declaration of love, were vowing that I was all the

world to him, and those lips drew closer to mine, and those hands pressed mine more firmly and seemed to burn me. through my veins a cloud came into my eyes i trembled and the words with which i intended to restrain him stuck in my throat suddenly i felt a kiss on my cheek and all of a tremble and cold i paused and looked at him without the power of speech or motion terrified i waited and longed for what all this lasted but a second but this second was terrible i seemed to have such a complete view of the man in that time his face was so easily read by me his low curved brow showing under his straw hat and looking like my husbands, his handsome straight nose with dilated nostrils, his long mustaches twisted to a point, and his imperial, his smooth-shaven cheeks,

and his sunburned neck. I detested him, I feared him, so foreign he appeared to me. But at that moment how powerfully I was under the influence of the emotion and passion of that hateful stranger. I had such an irresistible desire to return the kiss of his bold and handsome mouth, the pressure of those white hands with the delicate veins and with the rings on the fingers. So strongly tempted was I to throw myself headlong into the abyss of forbidden delight

suddenly yawning before me. I'm so unhappy, I said to myself, so why not let an unhappiness still greater and more hopeless accumulate on my head? He threw one arm around me and bent his face down to mine. Why not let still greater shame and sin accumulate on my head? "'Ivozema,' he whispered, in a voice which was so like my husband's. my husband and child recurred to my memory as dear object loved in other days long ago and now forever disconnected with my life but suddenly at this instant we heard l m's voice at the turn of the path calling me i came to my senses tore myself away from him and without looking at him almost ran after l m we took our seats in the carriage and i scarcely deigned to give him a parting glance he took off his hat and asked some questions with a smile he could not understand the inexpressible loathing which he could not understand the inexpressible loathing which he

I felt for him at that moment. My life seemed to me so unhappy, my future so hopeless, my past so dark. L.M. spoke to me, but I did not heed one word she said. It seemed to me that she was talking only out of pity in order to hide the contempt which she felt for me. In each word, in each glance, I detected her scorn and insulting pity. That shameful kiss burned on my cheek. The thought of my husband and my boy were unendurable. Alone in my room, I hope to be able to comprehend my situation. but it was terrible to me to be alone. I could not drink the tea which was brought to me, and, without knowing why,

with feverish haste I immediately began to pack up so as to take the evening train to Heidelberg where my husband was. When I was safely seated with my maid in the empty car, and the engine had started, and the cool breeze blew in upon me through the window, I began to come to myself, and more clearly to realise my past and my future. All my married life,

from the day of our arrival at Petersburg, suddenly appeared before me in a new life, and lay like a burden on my conscience. For the first time I had a lively recollection of our early married life in the country and our plans. For the first time the question came into my mind, how has he been enjoying himself during all these months? And I felt that I was guilty toward him.

But why did he not stop me? Why has he played the hypocrite before me? Why has he avoided any reconciliation? Why has he insulted me? I asked myself. Why? Why did he not exercise the power of his love over me? or has he not really loved me. But however much he had been to blame,

another man's kiss had been imprinted on my cheek, and I still felt it. The nearer I came to Heidelberg, the more distinctly I saw my husband in my imagination, and the more I dreaded the approaching meeting. I would tell him all, all I will weep tears of repentance, I thought, and he will forgive me.

But I myself did not know what this all was that I should tell him, and I myself did not believe that he would forgive me. As soon as I entered my husband's room and saw his calm, though astonished face. I felt that I had nothing to tell him, no acknowledgement to make, and nothing for which to ask his forgiveness. My inexpressible grief and rue

were still to be kept in my own secret heart. What made you think of doing this? he asked. I was intending to join you tomorrow. But, looking more closely into my face, he seemed to be alarmed. What is the matter? What is there wrong? he exclaimed. Nothing, I insisted,

with difficulty repressing my tears. I've come away for good. Let us go home to rush, a tomorrow. He looked at me attentively for some time without speaking. Come now, tell me what has happened to you, he said. I could not help blushing and cast down my eyes. His eyes flashed angrily as from a sense of injury. I was alarmed at the suspicion that he might have, and, with a power of dissimulation which was quite unexpected, even to myself, I said, nothing has happened. I simply became bored and melancholy at being alone, and I got to thinking

much about our life and about you. How long have I been to blame to you? How long have I been to blame to toward you? What made you come with me where you had no desire to come? I have been to blame toward you, I repeated, and again the tears welled up in my eyes. Let us go to the country and stay there. Oh dear, spare a sentimental scene, said he coldly. It is well that you're willing to go to the country because we're short of money, but as for staying there, that is a delusion. I know that would not suit you. But now have a little tea you'll feel better, said he, in conclusion, getting up to call his man. I imagined all that passed through his mind. and I felt humiliated by the terrible ideas which his incredulous and evidently censuring glance

made me know that he had conceived in regard to me. No, he could not and would not understand me. I said that I would go and see my child and left him. All I wanted was to be alone and to weep, weep, weep. End of Part 2, Chapter 3. Part 2, Chapter 4 of Family Happiness. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. Family Happiness by Leo Tolstoy, translated by Nathan Haskell Dole. Part 2, Chapter 4 The long, uninhabited, empty house at Nikolskaya came to life again, but what had once been

alive in it could not come to life again. Mamasha was no more, and my husband and I were alone there, face to face. But now being alone was not only not desirable, but it was irksome to us. the winter passed all the more gloomily for me because I was ill and my health was not restored until after the birth of our second son. The relations between my husband and me continued to be the same, coldly amicable, just as when we lived in the city, but in the country every floor, every wall, the sofa,

reminded me of what he had once been for me and of what I had lost. It seemed as though an unforgiven offence separated us, as though he were punishing me for something and pretending not to notice that he was doing so. to ask forgiveness was useless what was there to ask mercy for he punished me only by not giving me all of himself all of his soul as before but he never gave it to any one or to anything so that it might have been thought it was lacking in him sometimes it occurred to me that he only pretended to be what he was for the sake of torturing me but that in reality his old feeling still existed and i tried to bring it out but every time it seemed as though he avoided all frankness as though he expected me of duplicity and feeling that he had been so much as though he expected me of duplicity and feeling feared any sentimentality as something ridiculous. His look and voice seemed to say,

I know all, I know all, don't say anything, I know what you wish to say, and I know too that you talk one way and act another. At first I was offended at this fear of frankness, but afterward I became wanted to the idea that it was not frankness, but lack of any necessity for frankness. My tongue would not have been tempted now to tell him impulsively how I loved him, or to ask him to read the prayers with me, or to invite him to hear me play.

we felt ourselves subject to the rules of conventional propriety we each lived separate existences he with his own occupations in which i had now no need or wish to share i with my idle amusements which did not humiliate and pain him as they once did our children were still too young to be able to reconcile us but the spring came katya and sonya returned to the country for the summer our house at nikolskaya was undergoing repairs and we moved over to kovskya it was the same old mansion with the terrace with the folding table, and the piano in the bright drawing-room, and my old room with its white curtains and my maidenhood dreams, which seemed to have been forgotten there. In this room stood two little beds. One had been mine, and here every evening I made the sign of the cross over my fat, frolicsome little carcasha, the other was still smaller, and here Vanya's cunning little face peered out of his swaddling clothes. After bidding them good-night I often lingered in the quiet chamber, and suddenly from all the corners, from the walls, from the curtains would arise the old

forgotten dreams of my youth. Old voices began to sing my maidenhood songs. And where were these visions? Where were these dear sweet songs? All that I had hardly dared hope for had been realized. Vague, confused dreams had taken form, but the reality was a dull, hard and unhappy life. But all outwardly was the same. The same garden into which I looked from the window, the same lawn, the same parts, the same benches yonder above the ravine, the same song of the nightingales ringing over from the pond, and the same moon rising over the house. And yet all was so terribly, so hopelessly changed. So cold and cheerless was everything that ought to have been precious and sympathetic. Just as of old, Kathya and I sat together in the parlour and talked about him,

but Kathia had grown wrinkled and wan, her eyes no longer gleamed with pleasure and hope, but expressed sympathetic, melancholy and grief. We did not go into it. interraptures about him as we used to do. We criticised him. We did not wonder why it was that we were so happy, and we had no desire, as in old times, to tell the whole world what we thought, like conspirators. We whispered together, and a hundred times we asked each other why such a melancholy change had taken place. And he too was just the same as always, only the line between his eyes was heavier. There were more grey hairs around his temples, but his deep, thoughtful gaze was constantly veiled from me as by a cloud.

And I too was still the same, but there was no longer any love or desire for love in my heart. No necessity for work, no self-content. And how distant and impossible seemed to me my early religious enthusiasms and my former love to him and my former fullness of life. I could not now comprehend what formerly seemed to me so clear and true, the happiness of living for others. Why live for another when I did not even care to live myself? I had entirely given up my music.

from the day that we went to Petersburg, but now the old piano, the old music books, inspired me with a longing for it. One day I was not well, and had stayed alone at home. Katia and Sonia and Sonia had gone with my husband to Nikolskaya to see the improvements. The tea table was set. I went downstairs, and while waiting for their return, I took my seat to the piano. I turned to the Sonata quasi una Fantasia and began to play it. No one was in sight or hearing.

The windows into the garden was. opened and the familiar notes, plaintive and solemn, echoed through the room. I finished playing the first movement, and, quite unconsciously, through old habit, looked round to the corner in which he used to sit when he listened to me. But he was not there. The chair stood in its place from which it had never been removed, and from the window I could see the lilac bush against the bright western sky, and the afternoon sunlight pouring in through the open window. I bent over the piano, hid my face in both hands and was lost in thought.

i had been sitting so long a time recalling with anguish the old days which would never return and thinking with apprehension of the unknown future but it seemed as though there were only a blank ahead of me as though i had no expectations and no hope can it be that my life has been wasted i asked myself with horror lifting my head and in order that i might forget and not think i began once more to play in the same undante as before god forgive me i thought if i have been at fault restore to me all that was so beautiful to my soul teach me what to do how to live now the noise of the wheels was heard on the grass the carriage stopped in front of the steps then across the terrace came the familiar cautious footsteps and then they ceased but the old feeling was no longer stirred in me by the sound of those well-known footsteps when i had finished the footsteps were heard behind me and a hand was laid on my shoulder what a clever girl you are to play that sonata said he i made no reply haven't you had tea i shook my head and did not look at him lest i should show the traces of emotion in my face. They will be right in. One of the horses was skittish and they are coming on foot from the main road, said he. Let us wait for them, said I, and went out on the terrace hoping that he would follow me, but he asked after the children and went to them. Once more his presence, his unaffected, kindly voice made me feel that not all was lost. What is it that I lack? He is good and kind,

a good husband, a good father, I myself do not know what was for my own good. I went to the balcony and sat down under the awning of the terrace, on the very same bench where I'd sat on the day of our engagement. The sun had already set, it was beginning to grow dark and a black cloud, heavy with a spring shower, was coming up over the house and garden. Low in the west, through the trees, could be seen a clear space of the sky, touched with the fading twilight, and the faint golden light of the evening star. Over everything lay the shadow of the cloud, and everything was waiting for the gentle coming of the vernal shower. The breeze had died down, Not a leaf, not a grass-blade stirred, the odour of the lilac and wild cherry tree was strong as though all the air were in bloom.

It hung over the garden and the terrace and seemed to come in waves, now stronger, now fainter, making you feel like closing your eyes so as to shut out sight, hearing, and revel in this sweet perfume. The dahlias and rose bushes, not as yet in bloom, stood motionless in the dark, newly turned soil of the flower beds, and seemed to be slowly growing on their white supports. the frogs as though making the most of their opportunity before the rain should drive them into the water were whistling with loud cheerful notes under the ravine the mollifluous sound of falling waters rose perpetually above their clamour in the meantime the nightingales sang and could be heard flying an alarm from spot to spot again this spring one nightingale had tried to build his nest in the bush near the window and when i went out i listened as he flew beyond the alley and from there gave one burst of melody and then ceased also full of longing in vain i tried to calm myself i also seemed to be waiting and longing for something he came downstairs and took a seat near me i am afraid they will get wet said he yes said i and we both were silent the cloud came nearer and nearer though there was no wind everything had grown more silent more fragrant and more motionless then suddenly a drop fell and seemed to dance along the canvas awning of the terrace another fell on the rubble walk it began to splash on the burdock and the cool round drops increasing began to fall in a smart shower

the nightingale and the frogs entirely ceased only the mellifluous sound of the falling waters in the distance beyond the rain seemed to fill the spaces of the air and some bird which must have sought shelter under the dry leaves not far from the terrace at regular intervals repeated its two monotonous notes he got up and started to go away where are you going i asked detaining him it is so pleasant here i ought to send an umbrella and some rubbers he replied it isn't necessary it'll be over in a moment he agreed with me and we stood with me and we stood there stood together by the parapet of the terrace. I rubbed my hand along the wet, slippery railing and put my head out over. The cool raindrops irregularly sprinkled my head and back. The cloud, growing lighter and thinner, was passing over us. The even sound of the rain changed into the pattering of a few drops, falling from the awning and from the foliage.

Again the frogs set up their piping, again the songs of the nightingales gushed forth answering each other from the wet bushes. Now on this side, now on that. Everything grew light before us. How lovely, he exclaimed, sitting down on the balustrade and smoothing my wet hair with his hand. This simple careess had the effect upon me of a reproof, and I felt like bursting into tears. And what more does a human being want, he went on to say. I am so content now, there is nothing that I lack, I am perfectly happy.

That was not the way that you used to speak to me of your happiness, I said to myself. However great it was, you used to say that still there was something that was lacking. But now you are calm and satisfied, while in my soul there seems to be inexpressible remorse and unwept tears. I like it too, said I, but at the same time it makes me feel melancholy, for the very reason that everything is so beautiful around me. Everything in me is so incoherent, so shallow, so full of longing, and here it is so calm and beautiful.

Can it be that for you no pain is mingled with the beauty of nature, as though there were a longing for something that was past? He drew his hand away from my head, and was silent for a little. Yes, I used to feel that way, especially in spring, said he. as though collecting his thoughts, and I sometimes used to set up whole nights wishing and hoping, such lovely nights they were. But then everything was in prospect,

but now it is in retrospect. Now I am satisfied with all it is, and that is excellent, he added, with such perfect nonchalance that, however painful it was to me to hear him say so, I was convinced that he was speaking the truth. And have you no longings, I asked? Not for anything impossible, he replied, divining my thought.

Here you are wetting your head, he added, caressing me as though I were a child, and again laying his hand on my wet hair. You think, because you see the shower wetting the leaves and the grass, that you ought to be the grass and the leaves and the shower too, but I take pleasure in them only as everything else in the world that is beautiful, young and happy. And you have no regrets for what has passed, I went on to ask him, feeling that my heart was growing heavier and heavier. He pondered a moment and sat in silence. I saw that he was anxious to answer me with perfect sincerity. No, he replied laconically.

"'Tis false, tis false,' I exclaimed, "'drawing nearer to him and looking him full in the face. "'Have you no longing for what is past?' "'No,' he maintained. "'I am thankful for it, but I have no desire for it to return.' "'But why would you not want it to return?' I asked. He turned away and began to look down into the garden. "'I do not wish for it any more than for wings,' said he.

"'It is an impossibility. "'And you would not like to live your life over so as to live it better? "'You would not reproach yourself or me?' certainly not all has been for the best listen said i touching his arm so as to attract his attention listen to me why have you never told me what you wish so that i might have lived in exact accordance with your wishes why have you given me such perfect freedom when i was unfit to make good use of it why did you cease to teach me if you had only been willing if you had only led me in any other way that nothing nothing of this sort would have been said i in a tone which expressed more and more energetically cold vexation and reproach but not a trace of the old love what would not have been he asked in surprise turning round to me why there is nothing wrong it is all well perfectly well he added with a smile can it be that he does not understand or is it worse still that he does not care to understand i asked myself and the tears stood in my eyes Can it be that if I had not been guilty in your eyes, you would have punished me so by your indifference, by your scorn, even? I exclaimed suddenly. Can it be that for no fault of mine you

have suddenly taken from me all that I held dear? What is the matter, my love? he asked, evidently not understanding what I had said. No, let me speak. You have taken from me your trust, love, respect, even, because I do not believe that you love me now, after what has passed. No, I must have a chance to speak to the end all that has been tormenting me this long time, I exclaimed, without allowing him to interrupt me. Was I to blame that I did not know life, and that you left me to acquire a knowledge of it alone? Am I to blame because, having learned all that it was necessary, I have been struggling for a year to return to you, and yet you repulsed me as though you did not comprehend what I wanted,

and all the time in such a way that it has been impossible to blame you? And yet you have made me feel guilty and wretched. Yes, you would cast me back into a life which could make only your unhappiness and mine. But when did I do such a thing? he asked, with genuine dismay. in amazement. Did you not say last evening, and have you not constantly said, that I would not be content to live here, and that we must go back for the winter to St. Petersburg, which I detest so, I continued. Instead of helping me, you have avoided every frank explanation, every true affectionate talk with me. And then, if I should fall altogether, you would reproach me and rejoice in my fall.

Stop, stop, he cried sternly and coldly. That is not true what you have just said. It only shows that you occupy a false position in regard to me, that you do not, that I do not love. "'Speak it, speak it,' I said, "'taking the words out of his mouth and bursting into tears. "'I sat down on the bench and buried my face in my handkerchief. "'That is the way he has misunderstood me,' I thought, "'trying to restrain the sobs that choked me. "'Our old love is at an end,' said some voice at my heart.

"'He did not come to me or try to comfort me. "'He was offended at what I had said. "'His voice was calm and dry. "'I do not know what you have to reproach me for,' he began. "'If you mean that I do not love you as much as formally, then, love, said I, with my face buried in my handkerchief, which was more copiously wet with scolding tears. For this time and we ourselves are to blame. Each period in life has its own love. He was silent. And shall I tell you all the truth, if, as you say, you desire frankness? When I first knew you,

I spent sleepless nights thinking about you and fashioned my own ideal of love, and this love grew and grew in my heart. Then at Petersburg and when we were abroad, I no longer spent terrible nights. I tore this love, to tatters and demolished it since it tormented me i did not destroy it but i only destroyed that part of it that tormented me i calmed myself and i still love you but with a different kind of love yes you call it love but it is torture i exclaimed why did you let me go into society if it seemed to you so harmful that on account of it you cease to love was not society my love why did you not exert your power i continued why did you not bind me kill me it would have been better for me now than to be deprived of all that constitutes my happiness it would have been well for me and not shameful and again i sobbed and hid my face at this moment katya and sonya came on the terrace merry and dripping and with loud voices and laughter but when they saw us they became quiet and immediately left us for a long time we did not speak even after they had gone i had had my cry and felt relieved i looked at him he sat there with his head resting on his hand and tried to make some reply to my glance but he only sighed deeply and still leaned on his elbow i went to him and took his hand his glance rested thoughtfully on me yes he continued as though carrying out his thought to all of us and especially you women it is necessary to have personal experience of all the triviality of life in order to return to life itself and it is impossible to believe any one else's report you were as yet far from having at that time an experience of this brilliant and charming triviality which i was surprised at in you and i left you to have your own taste of it and i felt that i had not the right to prevent you although for me the time of this had gone by long before

why then did you live with me and let me live out my experience of this triviality if you love me said i because even though you had had the desire still you would not have had the power of believing me you yourself needed to learn for yourself and you have learned you have learned you have reason reasoned much, very much, said I, but your love was small. Again we relapsed into silence. What you have just said is cruel, but it is true, he broke out, suddenly, rising and beginning to walk up and down the terrace. Yes, it is true, I was to blame, he added, halting in front of me, I should either not have permitted myself to love you at all or to have loved you more, yes. Let us forget it all, said I, timidly. No, what has passed will never return, that will never return, and his voice grew tender as he said this. All will be the same as before, said i laying my hand on his shoulder he took my hand and pressed it no i did not tell you the truth when i said that i did not regret the past yes i regret it i mourn over your vanished love which is gone never to come back

who is to blame for that i know not love remains but not the same its place is occupied but by a feeble love lacking strength vigor recollections and thankfulness remain but don't speak so said i interrupting let all be again as it used to be it can be can it not i asked looking into his eyes. But his eyes were bright and calm and gazed at me without showing their depths. Even while I said this I felt that what I desired and asked him for was an impossibility. He smiled his serene, sweet smile with, as it seemed to me, a little of the old-time look about it. I stood silently near him and my mind became easier. Let us not try to repeat the experiment of life, said he. Let us not deceive each other. There will be none of the old anxieties and agitations, and thank God for it. there is nothing for us to seek for and nothing to trouble us we have already made our experiments since sufficient happiness has fallen to our lot now it is necessary for us to step aside and give room to someone to pass said he pointing to the nurse who with vanya came and stood at the terrace door

and so it is dear friend he said in conclusion drawing my head to his breast and kissing me on my hair it was not a lover but an old friend who kissed me and from the garden arose stronger and sweeter the fragrant coolness of the night the sounds and the silence grew more triumphant and the stars burned more brilliantly in the sky i looked at him and my mind was suddenly calmed as it were that moral painful nerve which had been paining me was suddenly relieved and suddenly i understood clearly and serenely that the feeling of that time had passed irrevocably like time itself and now it would be not only impossible but even be hard and grievous for it to return yes and after all was that time which had seemed to me so happy was it really good and it was already so long long ago now let us have tea said he and we went together into the parlour at the door we were met by the nurse with vanya i took the child in my arms covered up his bare red legs pressed him to my heart, and, scarcely touching him with my lips, kissed him. He, as in a troubled dream, waved his little hand with its spreading dimpled fingers and opened his troubled eyes as though searching or trying to remember something. Suddenly those eyes rested on me, the spark of intelligence shone out in them. His chubby parted lips began to pucker and parted in a smile.

Mine, mine, mine, I repeated to myself with a happy sensation in all my being, and I pressed him to my heart so close as almost to hurt him. And I began to kiss his collar. feet, his little belly, his hands and his head where the hair was just beginning to grow. My husband came to me. I quickly covered up the child's face and then uncovered it again. Ivan Sergeyevich, exclaimed my husband, tickling him under his little chin with his finger. But I again quickly covered little Ivan's face. No one beside me had a right to look at him. I glanced at my husband, his eyes rested on me with a bantering expression, and for the first time for many days it was easy and pleasant to look into them. From that day forth my romance with my husband was ended.

The old feeling became a precious, irrevocable memory, but the new feeling of love to my children and to the father of my children formed the beginning of another life, happy indeed, but an entirely different way, and this I have continued to live up to the present moment. The end. End of Part 2, Chapter 4. End of Family Happiness by Leo Tolstoy.