Part Six: Chapter 28

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Levin was standing rather far off. A nobleman breathing heavilyand hoarsely at his side, and another whose thick boots werecreaking, prevented him from hearing distinctly. He could onlyhear the soft voice of the marshal faintly, then the shrill voiceof the malignant gentleman, and then the voice of Sviazhsky.They were disputing, as far as he could make out, as to theinterpretation to be put on the act and the exact meaning of thewords: "liable to be called up for trial."

　　The crowd parted to make way for Sergey Ivanovitch approachingthe table. Sergey Ivanovitch, waiting till the malignantgentleman had finished speaking, said that he thought the bestsolution would be to refer to the act itself, and asked thesecretary to find the act. The act said that in case ofdifference of opinion, there must be a ballot.

　　Sergey Ivanovitch read the act and began to explain its meaning,but at that point a tall, stout, round-shouldered landowner, withdyed whiskers, in a tight uniform that cut the back of his neck,interrupted him. He went up to the table, and striking it withhis finger ring, he shouted loudly: "A ballot! Put it to thevote! No need for more talking!" Then several voices began totalk all at once, and the tall nobleman with the ring, gettingmore and more exasperated, shouted more and more loudly. But itwas impossible to make out what he said.

　　He was shouting for the very course Sergey Ivanovitch hadproposed; but it was evident that he hated him and all his party,and this feeling of hatred spread through the whole party androused in opposition to it the same vindictiveness, though in amore seemly form, on the other side. Shouts were raised, and fora moment all was confusion, so that the marshal of the provincehad to call for order.

　　"A ballot! A ballot! Every nobleman sees it! We shed our bloodfor our country!... The confidence of the monarch.... Nochecking the accounts of the marshal; he's not a cashier.... Butthat's not the point.... Votes, please! Beastly!..." shoutedfurious and violent voices on all sides. Looks and faces wereeven more violent and furious than their words. They expressedthe most implacable hatred. Levin did not in the leastunderstand what was the matter, and he marveled at the passionwith which it was disputed whether or not the decision aboutFlerov should be put to the vote. He forgot, as SergeyIvanovitch explained to him afterwards, this syllogism: that itwas necessary for the public good to get rid of the marshal ofthe province; that to get rid of the marshal it was necessary tohave a majority of votes; that to get a majority of votes it wasnecessary to secure Flerov's right to vote; that to secure therecognition of Flerov's right to vote they must decide on theinterpretation to be put on the act.

　　"And one vote may decide the whole question and one must beserious and consecutive, if one wants to be of use in publiclife," concluded Sergey Ivanovitch. But Levin forgot all that,and it was painful to him to see all these excellent persons, forwhom he had a respect, in such an unpleasant and vicious state ofexcitement. To escape from this painful feeling he went awayinto the other room where there was nobody except the waiters atthe refreshment bar. Seeing the waiters busy over washing up thecrockery and setting in order their plates and wine glasses,seeing their calm and cheerful faces, Levin felt an unexpectedsense of relief as though he had come out of a stuffy room intothe fresh air. He began walking up and down, looking withpleasure at the waiters. He particularly liked the way onegray-whiskered waiter, who showed his scorn for the other youngerones and was jeered at by them, was teaching them how to fold upnapkins properly. Levin was just about to enter intoconversation with the old waiter, when the secretary of the courtof wardship, a little old man whose specialty it was to know allthe noblemen of the province by name and patronymic, drew himaway.

　　"Please come, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," he said, "your brother'slooking for you. They are voting on the legal point."

　　Levin walked into the room, received a white ball, and followedhis brother, Sergey Ivanovitch, to the table where Sviazhsky wasstanding with a significant and ironical face, holding his beardin his fist and sniffing at it. Sergey Ivanovitch put his handinto the box, put the ball somewhere, and making room for Levin,stopped. Levin advanced, but utterly forgetting what he was todo, and much embarrassed, he turned to Sergey Ivanovitch with thequestion, "Where am I to put it?" He asked this softly, at amoment when there was talking going on near, so that he had hopedhis question would not be overheard. But the persons speakingpaused, and his improper question was overheard. SergeyIvanovitch frowned.

　　"That is a matter for each man's own decision," he said severely.

　　Several people smiled. Levin crimsoned, hurriedly thrust hishand under the cloth, and put the ball to the right as it was inhis right hand. Having put it in, he recollected that he oughtto have thrust his left hand too, and so he thrust it in thoughtoo late, and, still more overcome with confusion, he beat ahasty retreat into the background.

　　"A hundred and twenty-six for admission! Ninety-eight against!"sang out the voice of the secretary, who could not pronounce theletter r. Then there was a laugh; a button and two nuts werefound in the box. The nobleman was allowed the right to vote,and the new party had conquered.

　　But the old party did not consider themselves conquered. Levinheard that they were asking Snetkov to stand, and he saw that acrowd of noblemen was surrounding the marshal, who was sayingsomething. Levin went nearer. In reply Snetkov spoke of thetrust the noblemen of the province had placed in him, theaffection they had shown him, which he did not deserve, as hisonly merit had been his attachment to the nobility, to whom hehad devoted twelve years of service. Several times he repeatedthe words: "I have served to the best of my powers with truth andgood faith, I value your goodness and thank you," and suddenly hestopped short from the tears that choked him, and went out of theroom. Whether these tears came from a sense of the injusticebeing done him, from his love for the nobility, or from thestrain of the position he was placed in, feeling himselfsurrounded by enemies, his emotion infected the assembly, themajority were touched, and Levin felt a tenderness for Snetkov.

　　In the doorway the marshal of the province jostled against Levin.

　　"Beg pardon, excuse me, please," he said as to a stranger, butrecognizing Levin, he smiled timidly. It seemed to Levin that hewould have liked to say something, but could not speak foremotion. His face and his whole figure in his uniform with thecrosses, and white trousers striped with braid, as he movedhurriedly along, reminded Levin of some hunted beast who seesthat he is in evil case. This expression in the marshal's facewas particularly touching to Levin, because, only the day before,he had been at his house about his trustee business and had seenhim in all his grandeur, a kind-hearted, fatherly man. The bighouse with the old family furniture; the rather dirty, far fromstylish, but respectful footmen, unmistakably old house serfs whohad stuck to their master; the stout, good-natured wife in a capwith lace and a Turkish shawl, petting her pretty grandchild, herdaughter's daughter; the young son, a sixth form high school boy,coming home from school, and greeting his father, kissing his bighand; the genuine, cordial words and gestures of the old man--allthis had the day before roused an instinctive feeling of respectand sympathy in Levin. This old man was a touching and patheticfigure to Levin now, and he longed to say something pleasant tohim.

　　"So you're sure to be our marshal again," he said.

　　"It's not likely," said the marshal, looking round with a scaredexpression. "I'm worn out, I'm old. If there are men youngerand more deserving than I, let them serve."

　　And the marshal disappeared through a side door.

　　The most solemn moment was at hand. They were to proceedimmediately to the election. The leaders of both parties werereckoning white and black on their fingers.

　　The discussion upon Flerov had given the new party not onlyFlerov's vote, but had also gained time for them, so that theycould send to fetch three noblemen who had been rendered unableto take part in the elections by the wiles of the other party.Two noble gentlemen, who had a weakness for strong drink, hadbeen made drunk by the partisans of Snetkov, and a third had beenrobbed of his uniform.

　　On learning this, the new party had made haste, during thedispute about Flerov, to send some of their men in a sledge toclothe the stripped gentleman, and to bring along one of theintoxicated to the meeting.

　　"I've brought one, drenched him with water," said the landowner,who had gone on this errand, to Sviazhsky. "He's all right?he'll do."

　　"Not too drunk, he won't fall down?" said Sviazhsky, shaking hishead.

　　"No, he's first-rate. If only they don't give him any morehere.... I've told the waiter not to give him anything on anyaccount."