the inspector; that reminded him of Maslova, and how her lips trembled, like the croaking of the frogs, when she said, “You must just leave it.”  Then the German steward began going down to the frogs, and had to be held back, but he not only went down but turned into Maslova, who began reproaching Nekhludoff, saying, “You are a prince, and I am a convict.”  “No, I must not give in,” thought Nekhludoff, waking up, and again asking himself, “Is what I am doing right?  I do not know, and no matter, no matter, I must only fall asleep now.”  And he began himself to descend where he had seen the inspector and Maslova climbing down to, and there it all ended.

CHAPTER II.

EFFORTS AT LAND RESTORATION.

The next day Nekhludoff awoke at nine o’clock.  The young office clerk who attended on “the master” brought him his boots, shining as they had never shone before, and some cold, beautifully clear spring water, and informed him that the peasants were already assembling.

Nekhludoff jumped out of bed, and collected his thoughts.  Not a trace of yesterday’s regret at giving up and thus destroying his property remained now.  He remembered this feeling of regret with surprise; he was now looking forward with joy to the task before him, and could not help being proud of it.  He could see from the window the old tennis ground, overgrown with dandelions, on which the peasants were beginning to assemble.  The frogs had not croaked in vain the night before; the day was dull.  There was no wind; a soft warm rain had begun falling in the morning, and hung in drops on leaves, twigs, and grass.  Besides the smell of the fresh vegetation, the smell of damp earth, asking for more rain, entered in at the window.  While dressing, Nekhludoff several times looked out at the peasants gathered on the tennis ground.  One by one they came, took off their hats or caps to one another, and took their places in a circle, leaning on their sticks.  The steward, a stout, muscular, strong young man, dressed in a short pea-jacket, with a green stand-up collar, and enormous buttons, came to say that all had assembled, but that they might wait until Nekhludoff had finished his breakfast—­tea and coffee, whichever he pleased; both were ready.

“No, I think I had better go and see them at once,” said Nekhludoff, with an unexpected feeling of shyness and shame at the thought of the conversation he was going to have with the peasants.  He was going to fulfil a wish of the peasants, the fulfilment of which they did not even dare to hope for—­to let the land to them at a low price, i.e., to confer a great boon; and yet he felt ashamed of something.  When Nekhludoff came up to the peasants, and the fair, the curly, the bald, the grey heads were bared before him, he felt so confused that he could say nothing.  The rain continued to come down in small drops, that remained on the hair, the beards, and the fluff of