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Again a problem for Grisha: Pelageya was living in freedom, doing as she liked, and not having to account to anyone for her actions, and all at once, for no sort of reason, a stranger turns up, who has somehow acquired rights over her conduct and her property! Grisha was distressed. He longed passionately, almost to tears, to comfort this victim, as he supposed, of man's injustice.
Kirsha waited in the garden and he seemed earthly and dark among the white, quiet children. They walked quickly upon the Navii path like gliding, nocturnal shadows, one after another, the whole ten of them, with Grisha leading. The dew fell upon their naked feet, and the ground under their feet was soft, warm, and sad. Egorka awoke in his grave. It was dark and somewhat stuffy.
To vary the monotony, they have invented in the course of time a number of synonyms and comic nicknames. Seven, for instance, is called the "ovenrake," eleven the "sticks," seventy-seven "Semyon Semyonitch," ninety "grandfather," and so on. The game is going merrily. "Thirty-two," cries Grisha, drawing the little yellow cylinders out of his father's cap. "Seventeen! Ovenrake! Twenty-eight!
And he went on teaching Grisha, not in his own way, but by the book, and so took little interest in it, and often forgot the hour of the lesson. So it had been today. "No, I'm going, Dolly, you sit still," he said. "We'll do it all properly, like the book. Only when Stiva comes, and we go out shooting, then we shall have to miss it." And Levin went to Grisha.
Now, as always, interference made him angry, and he felt sorrowfully at once how mistaken had been his supposition that his spiritual condition could immediately change him in contact with reality. He was not a quarter of a mile from home when he saw Grisha and Tanya running to meet him.
The quiet, blue-eyed Grisha drew the curtain aside. The red folds came together with a sharp rustle and with a sudden flare as of a flame. The opening revealed a wooded vista, all permeated with a strangely bright light, like a vision of a transfigured land. Grisha said: "Go, Egorushka it is good there."
It's just as it might be with your Grisha.... Dolly!" she suddenly changed the subject "you say I take too gloomy a view of things. You can't understand. It's too awful! I try not to take any view of it at all." "But I think you ought to. You ought to do all you can." "But what can I do? Nothing. You tell me to marry Alexey, and say I don't think about it.
VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. May my eyes burst if I did. MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Well, I know you. You're never at rest in your own soul unless you're about to say something mean. GAVRÍLOVNA. Right away, mistress. She pours out two cups. POTÁPYCH hands them to MADAM ULANBÉKOV and to VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Pour Grísha a cup, too; he went with me to-day, and he's tired out.
GRISHA, a fat, solemn little person of seven, was standing by the kitchen door listening and peeping through the keyhole. In the kitchen something extraordinary, and in his opinion never seen before, was taking place.
All at once he heard, not far from the edge of the wood, the sound of Varenka's contralto voice, calling Grisha, and a smile of delight passed over Sergey Ivanovitch's face. Conscious of this smile, he shook his head disapprovingly at his own condition, and taking out a cigar, he began lighting it. For a long while he could not get a match to light against the trunk of a birch tree.
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