"Splendid, splendid!" he said, lighting a fat cigar after the

roast. "I feel as if, coming to you, I had landed on a peaceful

shore after the noise and jolting of a steamer. And so you

maintain that the laborer himself is an element to be studied and

to regulate the choice of methods in agriculture. Of course, I'm

an ignorant outsider; but I should fancy theory and its

application will have its influence on the laborer too."

"Yes, but wait a bit. I'm not talking of political economy, I'm

talking of the science of agriculture. It ought to be like the

natural sciences, and to observe given phenomena and the laborer

in his economic, ethnographical..."

At that instant Agafea Mihalovna came in with jam.

"Oh, Agafea Mihalovna," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, kissing the

tips of his plump fingers, "what salt goose, what herb

brandy!...What do you think, isn't it time to start, Kostya?" he

added.

Levin looked out of the window at the sun sinking behind the bare

tree-tops of the forest.

"Yes, it's time," he said. "Kouzma, get ready the trap," and he

ran downstairs.

Stepan Arkadyevitch, going down, carefully took the canvas cover

off his varnished gun case with his own hands, and opening it,

began to get ready his expensive new-fashioned gun. Kouzma, who

already scented a big tip, never left Stepan Arkadyevitch's side,

and put on him both his stockings and boots, a task which Stepan

Arkadyevitch readily left him.

"Kostya, give orders that if the merchant Ryabinin comes...I told

him to come today, he's to be brought in and to wait for me..."

"Why, do you mean to say you're selling the forest to Ryabinin?"

"Yes. Do you know him?"

"To be sure I do. I have had to do business with him,

'positively and conclusively.'"

Stepan Arkadyevitch laughed. "Positively and conclusively" were

the merchant's favorite words.

"Yes, it's wonderfully funny the way he talks. She knows where

her master's going!" he added, patting Laska, who hung about

Levin, whining and licking his hands, his boots, and his gun.

The trap was already at the steps when they went out.

"I told them to bring the trap round; or would you rather walk?"

"No, we'd better drive," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, getting into

the trap. He sat down, tucked the tiger-skin rug round him, and

lighted a cigar. "How is it you don't smoke? A cigar is a sort

of thing, not exactly a pleasure, but the crown and outward sign

of pleasure. Come, this is life! How splendid it is! This is

how I should like to live!"




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