From spring onwards, I was always much exercised by one question—shall we go to the country this year or not? Every year my father said that he wished to see the leaves open and would make an early start; but he was never ready before July. One year he put off so long that we never went at all. He sent orders every winter that the country-house was to be prepared and heated, but this was merely a deep device, that the head man and ground-officer, fearing our speedy arrival, might pay more attention to their duties.
It seemed that we were to go. My father said to my uncle, that he should enjoy a rest in the country and must see what was doing on the land; but still weeks went by.
The prospect became brighter by degrees. Food supplies were sent off—tea and sugar, grain of different kinds and wine; then came another delay; but at last the head man was ordered to send a certain number of peasants’ horses on a fixed day. Joy! Joy! we are to go!
At that time I never thought of the trouble caused to the peasants by the loss of four or five days at the busiest time of the year. I was completely happy and made haste to pack up my books and notebooks. The horses came, and I listened with inward satisfaction to the sound of their munching and snorting in the court. I took a lively interest in the bustle of the drivers and the wrangles of the servants, as they disputed where each should sit and accommodate his belongings. Lights burnt all night in the servants’ quarters: all were busy packing, or dragging about boxes and bags, or putting on special clothes for the journey, though it was not more than eighty versts. My father’s valet was the most excited of the party: he realised all the importance of packing, pulled out in fury all that others had put in, tore his hair with vexation, and was quite impossible to approach.
On the day itself my father got up no earlier than usual—indeed, it seemed later—and took just as long over his coffee; it was eleven o’clock before he gave the order to put to the horses. First came a coach to hold four, drawn by six of our own horses; this was followed by three or sometimes four equipages—an open carriage, a britzka, and either a large waggon or two carts; all these were filled by the servants and their baggage, in addition to the carts which had preceded us; and yet there was such a squeeze that no one could sit in comfort.
§9
We stopped half-way, to dine and feed the horses, at a large village, whose name of Perkhushkov may be found in Napoleon’s bulletins. It belonged to a son of the uncle, of whom I spoke in describing the division of the property. The neglected manor-house stood near the high road, which had dull flat fields on each side of it; but to me even this dusty landscape was delightful after the confinement of a town. The floors of the house were uneven, and the steps of the staircase shook; our tread sounded loud, and the walls echoed the noise, as if surprised by visitors. The old furniture, prized as a rarity by its former owner, was now spending its last days in banishment here. I wandered, with eager curiosity, from room to room, upstairs and downstairs, and finally into the kitchen. Our cook was preparing a hasty meal for us, and looked discontented and scornful; the bailiff was generally sitting in the kitchen, a grey-haired man with a lump on his head. When the cook turned to him and complained of the kitchen-range, the bailiff listened and said from time to time, “Well, perhaps you’re right”; he looked uneasily at all the stir in the house and clearly hoped we should soon go away.
Dinner was served on special plates, made of tin or Britannia metal, and bought for the purpose. Meanwhile the horses were put to; and the hall was filled with those who wished to pay their respects—former footmen, spending their last days in pure air but on short commons, and old women who had been pretty house-maids thirty years ago, all the creeping and hopping population of great houses, who, like the real locusts, devour the peasants’ toil by no fault of their own. They brought with them flaxen-haired children with bare feet and soiled clothes; the children kept pushing forward, and the old women kept pulling them back, and both made plenty of noise. The women caught hold of me when they could and expressed surprise at my growth in the same terms every year. My father spoke a few words to them; some tried to kiss his hand, but he never permitted it; others made their bow; and then we went away.
By the edge of a wood our bailiff was waiting for us, and he rode in front of us the last part of the way. A long lime avenue led up to our house from the vicarage; at the house we were met by the priest and his wife, the sexton, the servants, and some peasants. An idiot, called Pronka, was there too, the only self-respecting person; for he kept on his dirty old hat, stood a little apart and grinned, and started away whenever any of the newcomers tried to approach him.