Part Six: Chapter 5

by Leo Tolstoy

　　"Varvara Andreevna, when I was very young, I set before myselfthe ideal of the women I loved and should be happy to call mywife. I have lived through a long life, and now for the firsttime I have met what I sought--in you. I love you, and offer youmy hand."

　　Sergey Ivanovitch was saying this to himself while he was tenpaces from Varvara. Kneeling down, with her hands over themushrooms to guard them from Grisha, she was calling littleMasha.

　　"Come here, little ones! There are so many!" she was saying inher sweet, deep voice.

　　Seeing Sergey Ivanovitch approaching, she did not get up and didnot change her position, but everything told him that she felthis presence and was glad of it.

　　"Well, did you find some?" she asked from under the whitekerchief, turning her handsome, gently smiling face to him.

　　"Not one," said Sergey Ivanovitch. "Did you?"

　　She did not answer, busy with the children who thronged abouther.

　　"That one too, near the twig," she pointed out to little Masha alittle fungus, split in half across its rosy cap by the dry grassfrom under which it thrust itself. Varenka got up while Mashapicked the fungus, breaking it into two white halves. "Thisbrings back my childhood," she added, moving apart from thechildren beside Sergey Ivanovitch.

　　They walked on for some steps in silence. Varenka saw that hewanted to speak; she guessed of what, and felt faint with joy andpanic. They had walked so far away that no one could hear themnow, but still he did not begin to speak. It would have beenbetter for Varenka to be silent. After a silence it would havebeen easier for them to say what they wanted to say than aftertalking about mushrooms. But against her own will, as it wereaccidentally, Varenka said:

　　"So you found nothing? In the middle of the wood there arealways fewer, though." Sergey Ivanovitch sighed and made noanswer. He was annoyed that she had spoken about the mushrooms.He wanted to bring her back to the first words she had utteredabout her childhood; but after a pause of some length, as thoughagainst his own will, he made an observation in response to herlast words.

　　"I have heard that the white edible funguses are foundprincipally at the edge of the wood, though I can't tell themapart."

　　Some minutes more passed, they moved still further away from thechildren, and were quite alone. Varenka's heart throbbed so thatshe heard it beating, and felt that she was turning red and paleand red again.

　　To be the wife of a man like Koznishev, after her position withMadame Stahl, was to her imagination the height of happiness.Besides, she was almost certain that she was in love with him.And this moment it would have to be decided. She feltfrightened. She dreaded both his speaking and his not speaking.

　　Now or never it must be said--that Sergey Ivanovitch felt too.Everything in the expression, the flushed cheeks and the downcasteyes of Varenka betrayed a painful suspense. Sergey Ivanovitchsaw it and felt sorry for her. He felt even that to say nothingnow would be a slight to her. Rapidly in his own mind he ranover all the arguments in support of his decision. He even saidover to himself the words in which he meant to put his offer, butinstead of those words, some utterly unexpected reflection thatoccurred to him made him ask:

　　"What is the difference between the 'birch' mushroom and the'white' mushroom?"

　　Varenka's lips quivered with emotion as she answered:

　　"In the top part there is scarcely any difference, it's in thestalk."

　　And as soon as these words were uttered, both he and she feltthat it was over, that what was to have been said would not besaid; and their emotion, which had up to then been continuallygrowing more intense, began to subside.

　　"The birch mushroom's stalk suggests a dark man's chin after twodays without shaving," said Sergey Ivanovitch, speaking quitecalmly now.

　　"Yes, that's true," answered Varenka smiling, and unconsciouslythe direction of their walk changed. They began to turn towardsthe children. Varenka felt both sore and ashamed; at the sametime she had a sense of relief.

　　When he had got home again and went over the whole subject,Sergey Ivanovitch thought his previous decision had been amistaken one. He could not be false to the memory of Marie.

　　"Gently, children, gently!" Levin shouted quite angrily to thechildren, standing before his wife to protect her when the crowdof children flew with shrieks of delight to meet them.

　　Behind the children Sergey Ivanovitch and Varenka walked out ofthe wood. Kitty had no need to ask Varenka; she saw from thecalm and somewhat crestfallen faces of both that her plans hadnot come off.

　　"Well?" her husband questioned her as they were going home again.

　　"It doesn't bite," said Kitty, her smile and manner of speakingrecalling her father, a likeness Levin often noticed withpleasure.

　　"How doesn't bite?"

　　"I'll show you," she said, taking her husband's hand, lifting itto her mouth, and just faintly brushing it with closed lips."Like a kiss on a priest's hand."

　　"Which didn't it bite with?" he said, laughing.

　　"Both. But it should have been like this..."

　　"There are some peasants coming..."

　　"Oh, they didn't see."