Resurrection

Nekhludoff went to visit his aunts because their estate lay near

the road he had to travel in order to join his regiment, which

had gone forward, because they had very warmly asked him to come,

and especially because he wanted to see Katusha. Perhaps in his

heart he had already formed those evil designs against Katusha

which his now uncontrolled animal self suggested to him, but he

did not acknowledge this as his intention, but only wished to go

back to the spot where he had been so happy, to see his rather

funny, but dear, kind-hearted old aunts, who always, without his

noticing it, surrounded him with an atmosphere of love and

admiration, and to see sweet Katusha, of whom he had retained so

pleasant a memory.

He arrived at the end of March, on Good Friday, after the thaw

had set in. It was pouring with rain so that he had not a dry

thread on him and was feeling very cold, but yet vigorous and

full of spirits, as always at that time. "Is she still with

them?" he thought, as he drove into the familiar, old-fashioned

courtyard, surrounded by a low brick wall, and now filled with

snow off the roofs.

He expected she would come out when she heard the sledge bells

but she did not. Two bare-footed women with pails and tucked-up

skirts, who had evidently been scrubbing the floors, came out of

the side door. She was not at the front door either, and only

Tikhon, the man-servant, with his apron on, evidently also busy

cleaning, came out into the front porch. His aunt Sophia Ivanovna

alone met him in the ante-room; she had a silk dress on and a cap

on her head. Both aunts had been to church and had received

communion.

"Well, this is nice of you to come," said Sophia Ivanovna,

kissing him. "Mary is not well, got tired in church; we have been

to communion."

"I congratulate you, Aunt Sophia," [it is usual in Russia to

congratulate those who have received communion] said Nekhludoff,

kissing Sophia Ivanovna's hand. "Oh, I beg your pardon, I have

made you wet."

"Go to your room--why you are soaking wet. Dear me, you have got

moustaches! . . . Katusha! Katusha! Get him some coffee; be

quick."

"Directly," came the sound of a well-known, pleasant voice from

the passage, and Nekhludoff's heart cried out "She's here!" and

it was as if the sun had come out from behind the clouds.

Nekhludoff, followed by Tikhon, went gaily to his old room to

change his things. He felt inclined to ask Tikhon about Katusha;

how she was, what she was doing, was she not going to be married?

But Tikhon was so respectful and at the same time so severe,

insisted so firmly on pouring the water out of the jug for him,

that Nekhludoff could not make up his mind to ask him about

Katusha, but only inquired about Tikhon's grandsons, about the

old so-called "brother's" horse, and about the dog Polkan. All

were alive except Polkan, who had gone mad the summer before.