The Cossacks

The Cossacks

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Title: The Cossacks
Author: Leo Tolstoy
Release Date: December, 2003 [EBook #4761] [Yes, we are more than
one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on March 13,
2002]

Edition: 10
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE
COSSACKS ***

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THE COSSACKS A Tale of 1852
By Leo Tolstoy (1863)
Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude


Chapter I
All is quiet in Moscow. The squeak of wheels is seldom heard in the
snow-covered street. There are no lights left in the windows and the
street lamps have been extinguished. Only the sound of bells, borne
over the city from the church towers, suggests the approach of morning.
The streets are deserted. At rare intervals a night-cabman's sledge
kneads up the snow and sand in the street as the driver makes his way
to another corner where he falls asleep while waiting for a fare. An old
woman passes by on her way to church, where a few wax candles burn
with a red light reflected on the gilt mountings of the icons. Workmen
are already getting up after the long winter night and going to their
work--but for the gentlefolk it is still evening.
From a window in Chevalier's Restaurant a light--illegal at that hour--is
still to be seen through a chink in the shutter. At the entrance a carriage,
a sledge, and a cabman's sledge, stand close together with their backs to
the curbstone. A three-horse sledge from the post-station is there also.

A yard-porter muffled up and pinched with cold is sheltering behind
the corner of the house.
'And what's the good of all this jawing?' thinks the footman who sits in
the hall weary and haggard. 'This always happens when I'm on duty.'
From the adjoining room are heard the voices of three young men,
sitting there at a table on which are wine and the remains of supper.
One, a rather plain, thin, neat little man, sits looking with tired kindly
eyes at his friend, who is about to start on a journey. Another, a tall
man, lies on a sofa beside a table on which are empty bottles, and plays
with his watch-key. A third, wearing a short, fur-lined coat, is pacing
up and down the room stopping now and then to crack an almond
between his strong, rather thick, but well-tended fingers. He keeps
smiling at something and his face and eyes are all aglow. He speaks
warmly and gesticulates, but evidently does not find the words he
wants and those that occur to him seem to him inadequate to express
what has risen to his heart.
'Now I can speak out fully,' said the traveller. 'I don't want to defend
myself, but I should like you at least to understand me as I understand
myself, and not look at the matter superficially. You say I have treated
her badly,' he continued, addressing the man with the kindly eyes who
was watching him.
'Yes, you are to blame,' said the latter, and his look seemed to express
still more kindliness and weariness.
'I know why you say that,' rejoined the one who was leaving. 'To be
loved is in your opinion as great a happiness as to love, and if a man
obtains it, it is enough for his whole life.'
'Yes, quite enough, my dear fellow, more than enough!' confirmed the
plain little man, opening and shutting his eyes.
'But why shouldn't the man love too?' said the traveller thoughtfully,
looking at his friend with something like pity. 'Why shouldn't one love?
Because love doesn't come ... No, to be beloved is a misfortune. It is a
misfortune to feel guilty because you do not give something you cannot

give.