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“You don’t say so!”
“And have you any children?”
“I’ve had four; I’ve two living—a boy and a girl. I weaned her last
carnival.”
“How old is she?”
“Why, two years old.”
“Why did you nurse her so long?”
“It’s our custom; for three fasts...”
And the conversation became most interesting to Darya
Alexandrovna. What sort of time did she have? What was the matter
with the boy? Where was her husband? Did it often happen?
Darya Alexandrovna felt disinclined to leave the peasant women,
so interesting to her was their conversation, so completely identical
were all their interests. What pleased her most of all was that she saw
clearly what all the women admired more than anything was her hav-
ing so many children, and such fine ones. The peasant women even
made Darya Alexandrovna laugh, and offended the English govern-
ess, because she was the cause of the laughter she did not understand.
One of the younger women kept staring at the Englishwoman, who
was dressing after all the rest, and when she put on her third petticoat
she could not refrain from the remark, “My, she keeps putting on and
putting on, and she’ll never have done!” she said, and they all went off
into roars.
Chapter 9.
On the drive home, as Darya Alexandrovna, with all her children
round her, their heads still wet from their bath, and a kerchief tied over
her own head, was getting near the house, the coachman said, “There’s
some gentleman coming: the master of Pokrovskoe, I do believe.”
Darya Alexandrovna peeped out in front, and was delighted when
she recognized in the gray hat and gray coat the familiar figure of
Levin walking to meet them. She was glad to see him at any time, but
at this moment she was specially glad he should see her in all her glory.
No one was better able to appreciate her grandeur than Levin.
Seeing her, he found himself face to face with one of the pictures of
his daydream of family life.
“You’re like a hen with your chickens, Darya Alexandrovna.”
“Ah, how glad I am to see you!” she said, holding out her hand to
him.
“Glad to see me, but you didn’t let me know. My brother’s staying
with me. I got a note from Stiva that you were here.”
“From Stiva?” Darya Alexandrovna asked with surprise.
“Yes; he writes that you are here, and that he thinks you might
allow me to be of use to you,” said Levin, and as he said it he became
suddenly embarrassed, and, stopping abruptly, he walked on in silence
by the wagonette, snapping off the buds of the lime trees and nibbling