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You are a gentleman, Barin, and gentlemen have got to be done away with. The old woman will wake you.... Sleep now." Prozorovsky lay down without undressing, put his cape under his head and at once caught a cockroach on his neck! Some young pigs grunted in a corner. The hut was swarming with vermin, blackened by smoke and filled with stenches.
It was useless because he knew, as did everyone in the village, how much each man had; it was torturous because it entailed such a great deal of writing. Prince Prozorovsky had risen at daybreak. The sun glared fiercely over the bare autumn-swept park and into the drawing-room windows. The wedding cry of the ravens echoed through the autumnal stillness that hung broodingly over the Steppe.
Of old papers and interesting documents, upon which Lavretsky had reckoned, there seemed no trace, except one old book, in which his grandfather, Piotr Andreitch, had inscribed in one place, "Celebration in the city of Saint Petersburg of the peace, concluded with the Turkish empire by his Excellency Prince Alexander Alexandrovitch Prozorovsky;" in another place a recipe for a pectoral decoction with the comment, "This recipe was given to the general's lady, Prascovya Federovna Soltikov, by the chief priest of the Church of the Life-giving Trinity, Fedor Avksentyevitch:" in another, a piece of political news of this kind: "Somewhat less talk of the French tigers;" and next this entry: "In the Moscow Gazette an announcement of the death of Mr.
Prozorovsky sat down by the window and looked out at the neglected park. He remained there for about an hour, leaning his arms on the marble sill, thinking, remembering. His reflections were interrupted by Koloturov. The peasant came in silently with two of his men and passed through into the office. They endeavoured silently to lift a writing-table. Something cracked.
Prince Prozorovsky entered his study, sat down at the desk and drew out a drawer full of letters. No! he could not take all his life away with him: He laid the drawer on the desk, then went into the drawing- room. A jug of milk and some bread stood on an album-table.
The drawing-room had not so far been touched; the gilt backs of books still glittered from behind glass cases in the study. Oh books! Will not your poison and your delights still abide? Prince Prozorovsky went out into the fields; they were barren but for dead rye-stalks that stuck up starkly from the earth. Wolves were already on the trail.
In one place might be read, "Celebration in the city of St. Petersburg, of the Peace concluded with the Turkish Empire by his Excellency, Prince Alexander Alexandrovich Prozorovsky". In another, "Recipe of a decoction for the chest," with the remark. "This prescription was given the Generaless Prascovia Fedorovna Saltykof, by the Archpresbyter of the Life-beginning Trinity, Fedor Avksentevich."
Prince Prozorovsky had left at evening. Immediately after, furniture was pulled about and re-arranged, the veneer was chipped off the desk. The clock was about to be transferred to the office, but some one noticed that it had only one hand.
People are coming from Moscow ... and ... and ... about thirty five of them ... thirty five I tell you!... But then, what will there be to buy with the proceeds?... Well, well! It is a great time all the same ... a great time, Barin! Have a smoke, your Excellency." Prozorovsky refused the proffered pipe, and rolled himself a small cigar of an inferior brand. Around was the Steppe.
On the sheet was typed "To the Barin Prozorovsky. The Bielokonsky Committee of the Poor order you to withdraw from the Soviet Estate of Bielokonsky and from the district precincts. President Koloturov." "Very well," said the Prince quietly; "I will go this evening." "You will take no horse." "I will go on foot." "As you like," Koloturov replied. "You will take nothing with you."
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