“I have no right to own the land.  And if I do not own the land, I cannot keep the property intact.  Besides, I will now go to Siberia, and for that reason I need neither the house nor the estate,” whispered one voice.  “All that is true,” whispered another voice, “but you will not pass all your life in Siberia.  If you should marry, you may have children.  And you must hand over the estate to them in the same condition in which you found it.  There are duties toward the land.  It is easy to give away the land, to destroy everything; but it is very hard to accumulate it.  Above all, you must mark out a plan of your life, and dispose of your property accordingly.  And, then, are you acting as you do in order to satisfy conscientious scruples, or for the praise you expect of people?” Nekhludoff asked himself, and could not help acknowledging that the talk that it would occasion influenced his decision.  And the more he thought the more questions raised themselves, and the more perplexing they appeared.  To rid himself of these thoughts he lay down on the fresh-made bed, intending to go over them again the next day with a clearer mind.  But he could not fall asleep for a long time.  Along with the fresh air, through the open window, came the croaking of frogs, interrupted by the whistling of nightingales, one of which was in a lilac bush under the window.  Listening to the nightingales and the frogs, Nekhludoff recalled the music of the inspector’s daughter; and, thinking of that music, he recalled Maslova—­how, like the croaking of a frog, her lips trembled when she said, “You must drop that.”  Then the German manager descended to the frogs.  He should have been held back, but not only did he come down, but he was transformed into Maslova and started to taunt him:  “I am a convict, and you are a Prince.”  “No, I shall not yield,” thought Nekhludoff, and came to.  “Am I acting properly or improperly?” he asked himself.  “I don’t know; I will know to-morrow.”  And he began to descend to where the manager and Maslova were.  And there everything ended.

CHAPTER II.

With a feeling of timidity and shame Nekhludoff the following morning, walked out to meet the peasants who had gathered at a small square in front of the house.  As he approached them the peasants removed their caps, and for a long time Nekhludoff could not say anything.  Although he was going to do something for the peasants which they never dared even to think of, his conscience was troubled.  The peasants stood in a fine, drizzling rain, waiting to hear what their master had to say, and Nekhludoff was so confused that he could not open his mouth.  The calm, self-confident German came to his relief.  This strong, overfed man, like Nekhludoff himself, made a striking contrast to the emaciated, wrinkled faces of the peasants, and the bare shoulder-bones sticking out from under their caftans.

“The Prince came to befriend you—­to give you the land, but you are not worthy of it,” said the German.