At the end of September the timber had been carted for building
the cattleyard on the land that had been allotted to the
association of peasants, and the butter from the cows was sold
and the profits divided. In practice the system worked
capitally, or, at least, so it seemed to Levin. In order to work
out the whole subject theoretically and to complete his book,
which, in Levin's daydreams, was not merely to effect a
revolution in political economy, but to annihilate that science
entirely and to lay the foundation of a new science of the
relation of the people to the soil, all that was left to do was
to make a tour abroad, and to study on the spot all that had been
done in the same direction, and to collect conclusive evidence
that all that had been done there was not what was wanted. Levin
was only waiting for the delivery of his wheat to receive the
money for it and go abroad. But the rains began, preventing the
harvesting of the corn and potatoes left in the fields, and
putting a stop to all work, even to the delivery of the wheat.
The mud was impassable along the roads; two mills were carried
away, and the weather got worse and worse.
On the 30th of September the sun came out in the morning, and
hoping for fine weather, Levin began making final preparations
for his journey. He gave orders for the wheat to be delivered,
sent the bailiff to the merchant to get the money owing him, and
went out himself to give some final directions on the estate
before setting off.
Having finished all his business, soaked through with the streams
of water which kept running down the leather behind his neck and
his gaiters, but in the keenest and most confident temper, Levin
returned homewards in the evening. The weather had become worse
than ever towards evening; the hail lashed the drenched mare so
cruelly that she went along sideways, shaking her head and ears;
but Levin was all right under his hood, and he looked cheerfully
about him at the muddy streams running under the wheels, at the
drops hanging on every bare twig, at the whiteness of the patch
of unmelted hailstones on the planks of the bridge, at the thick
layer of still juicy, fleshy leaves that lay heaped up about the
stripped elm-tree. In spite of the gloominess of nature around
him, he felt peculiarly eager. The talks he had been having with
the peasants in the further village had shown that they were
beginning to get used to their new position. The old servant to
whose hut he had gone to get dry evidently approved of Levin's
plan, and of his own accord proposed to enter the partnership by
the purchase of cattle.