Resurrection | Page 8

white, muscular
body, and dried it with a rough bath sheet, he put on his fine
undergarments and his boots, and sat down before the glass to brush his
black beard and his curly hair, that had begun to get thin above the
forehead. Everything he used, everything belonging to his toilet, his
linen, his clothes, boots, necktie, pin, studs, was of the best quality,
very quiet, simple, durable and costly.
Nekhludoff dressed leisurely, and went into the dining-room. A table,
which looked very imposing with its four legs carved in the shape of
lions' paws, and a huge side-board to match, stood in the oblong room,
the floor of which had been polished by three men the day before. On
the table, which was covered with a fine, starched cloth, stood a silver
coffeepot full of aromatic coffee, a sugar basin, a jug of fresh cream,
and a bread basket filled with fresh rolls, rusks, and biscuits; and beside
the plate lay the last number of the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, a
newspaper, and several letters.
Nekhludoff was just going to open his letters, when a stout,
middle-aged woman in mourning, a lace cap covering the widening
parting of her hair, glided into the room. This was Agraphena Petrovna,
formerly lady's maid to Nekhludoff's mother. Her mistress had died
quite recently in this very house, and she remained with the son as his
housekeeper. Agraphena Petrovna had spent nearly ten years, at
different times, abroad with Nekhludoff's mother, and had the

appearance and manners of a lady. She had lived with the Nekhludoffs
from the time she was a child, and had known Dmitri Ivanovitch at the
time when he was still little Mitinka.
"Good-morning, Dmitri Ivanovitch."
"Good-morning, Agraphena Petrovna. What is it you want?"
Nekhludoff asked.
"A letter from the princess; either from the mother or the daughter. The
maid brought it some time ago, and is waiting in my room," answered
Agraphena Petrovna, handing him the letter with a significant smile.
"All right! Directly!" said Nekhludoff, taking the letter and frowning as
he noticed Agraphena Petrovna's smile.
That smile meant that the letter was from the younger Princess
Korchagin, whom Agraphena Petrovna expected him to marry. This
supposition of hers annoyed Nekhludoff.
"Then I'll tell her to wait?" and Agraphena Petrovna took a crumb
brush which was not in its place, put it away, and sailed out of the
room.
Nekhludoff opened the perfumed note, and began reading it.
The note was written on a sheet of thick grey paper, with rough edges;
the writing looked English. It said:
Having assumed the task of acting as your memory, I take the liberty of
reminding you that on this the 28th day of April you have to appear at
the Law Courts, as juryman, and, in consequence, can on no account
accompany us and Kolosoff to the picture gallery, as, with your
habitual flightiness, you promised yesterday; _a moins que vous ne
soyez dispose a payer la cour d'assise les 300 roubles d'amende que
vous vous refusez pour votre cheval,_ for not appearing in time. I
remembered it last night after you were gone, so do not forget.
Princess M. Korchagin.
On the other side was a postscript.
_Maman vous fait dire que votre convert vous attendra jusqu'a la nuit.
Venez absolument a quelle heure que cela soit._
M. K.
Nekhludoff made a grimace. This note was a continuation of that
skilful manoeuvring which the Princess Korchagin had already
practised for two months in order to bind him closer and closer with
invisible threads. And yet, beside the usual hesitation of men past their

youth to marry unless they are very much in love, Nekhludoff had very
good reasons why, even if he did make up his mind to it, he could not
propose at once. It was not that ten years previously he had betrayed
and forsaken Maslova; he had quite forgotten that, and he would not
have considered it a reason for not marrying. No! The reason was that
he had a liaison with a married woman, and, though he considered it
broken off, she did not.
Nekhludoff was rather shy with women, and his very shyness
awakened in this married woman, the unprincipled wife of the marechal
de noblesse of a district where Nekhludoff was present at an election,
the desire of vanquishing him. This woman drew him into an intimacy
which entangled him more and more, while it daily became more
distasteful to him. Having succumbed to the temptation, Nekhludoff
felt guilty, and had not the courage to break the tie without her consent.
And this was the reason he did not feel at liberty to propose to
Korchagin even if he had wished to do so. Among the letters on the
table was one from