Nekhludoff set the price, and though much lower than the prevailing price, the peasants began to bargain, finding it high.  He expected that his offer would be accepted with pleasure, but there was no sign of satisfaction.  Only when the question was raised whether the whole community would take the land, or have individual arrangements did he know that it was profitable for them.  For there resulted fierce quarrels between those who wished to exclude the weak ones and bad payers from participating in the land, and those whom it was sought to exclude.  But the German finally arranged the price and time of payment, and the peasants, noisily talking, returned to the village.

The price was about thirty per cent. lower than the one prevailing in the district, and Nekhludoff’s income was reduced to almost one-half, but, with money realized from the sale of the timber and yet to be realized from the sale of the stock, it was amply sufficient for him.  Everything seemed to be satisfactory, and yet Nekhludoff felt sad and lonesome, but, above all, his conscience troubled him.  He saw that although the peasants spoke words of thanks, they were not satisfied and expected something more.  The result was that while he deprived himself of much, he failed to do that which the peasants expected.

On the following day, after the contract was signed, Nekhludoff, with an unpleasant feeling of having left something undone, seated himself in the “dandy” three-horse team and took leave of the peasants, who were shaking their heads in doubt and dissatisfaction.  Nekhludoff was dissatisfied with himself—­he could not tell why, but he felt sad, and was ashamed of something.

CHAPTER III.

From Kusminskoie Nekhludoff went to Panovo, the estate left him by his aunts, and where he had first seen Katiousha.  He intended to dispose of this land in the same manner as he disposed of the other, and also desired to learn all there was known about Katiousha, and to find out if it was true that their child had died.

As he sat at the window observing the familiar scenery of the now somewhat neglected estate, he not only recalled, but felt himself as he was fourteen years ago; fresh, pure and filled with the hope of endless possibilities.  But as it happens in a dream, he knew that that was gone, and he became very sad.

Before breakfast he made his way to the hut of Matrena Kharina, Katiousha’s aunt, who was selling liquor surreptitiously, for information about the child, but all he could learn from her was that the child had died on the way to a Moskow asylum; in proof of which the midwife had brought a certificate.

On his way back he entered the huts of some peasants, and inquired about their mode of living.  The same complaints of the paucity of land, hunger and degradation he heard everywhere.  He saw the same pinched faces, threadbare homespuns, bare feet and bent shoulders.