There was none to disturb him with disapproval, no one to intrude into his affairs. Consequently there was no reason for controlling himself.
Extreme slovenliness became the dominating feature of his attitude toward himself.
He had long had a craving for this perfect freedom from any moral restraint, and the fact that he had not gone to live in the country earlier was entirely due to his fear of idleness.
Having spent over thirty years in the dull atmosphere of the bureaucratic department, he had acquired all the habits and appetites of an inveterate official, who does not allow a single moment of his life to pass without being busily engaged in doing nothing.
But on studying the matter more closely, he came to the conclusion that the realm of busy idleness can easily be transposed to any sphere.
In fact, scarcely settled at Golovliovo but he at once created a world of trifles in which to rummage without the slightest risk of them ever being exhausted.
In the morning he would seat himself at his desk and attend to business matters. First he would carefully check the accounts of the housekeeper, the cattle-yard woman, and the steward. He had established a very complicated accounting system, both for money and inventory. Every kopek, every bit of produce, was entered in twenty books, and on checking up he would find the total either half a kopek behind, or a whole kopek ahead.
Lastly he would take up his pen and write complaints to the justice of the peace and the judge of appeals.
This took up all his time and had the appearance of assiduous hard work.
Yudushka often complained that he had no time to do everything that had to be done, though he pored over the ledgers all day long and did not even stop to take off his dressing-gown.
Heaps of well filed but unexamined reports were always lying about on his desk, and among them was the annual report of the cattle-house woman, Fekla, whose activity had long seemed suspicious, though he had had no time to check up her accounts.
All connections with the outside world were completely severed.
He received no books, no newspapers, not even letters.
One of his sons, Volodya, committed suicide. With the other, Petenka, he corresponded briefly and only on sending him a remittance.
He was caught in an atmosphere thick with ignorance, superstition and industrious idleness, and felt no desire to rescue himself from it.
Even the fact that Napoleon III. was no longer emperor came to him through the local chief of police a year after the emperor's death. On hearing of it he expressed no particular interest, but only crossed himself and murmured: "May he enter the Kingdom of Heaven," and then said aloud:
"And how proud he was!
My, my!
This was no good, and that did not suit him.
Kings went to do him homage, princes kept watch in his antechamber.
So the Lord, you see, in one moment cast down all his proud dreams."
The truth of the matter was that for all his reckoning and checking up he was far from knowing what was going on on his own estate.
In this respect he was a typical official.
Imagine a chief clerk to whom his superior says:
"My friend, it is necessary to my plans for me to know exactly how large a crop of potatoes Russia can produce annually. Will you kindly compute this for me?"
You think a question like that would baffle the chief clerk?
You think he would at least ponder over the methods to be employed in the execution of such a task?
Not at all. All he would do is this. He would draw a map of Russia, rule it out into perfect squares, and find out how many acres each square represents. Then he would go to the greengrocer's, would find out the quantity of potatoes each acre requires for seed and what the average ratio is of yield to seed, and, finally, with the help of God and the four fundamental operations of arithmetic, he would arrive at the conclusion that Russia under favorable circumstances could yield so and so many potatoes and under unfavorable circumstances, so and so many.
And his work would not only please the chief, but would also be placed in Volume CII of some
"Proceedings."
Yudushka even chose a housekeeper who exactly fitted the environment he had created.
The maiden Yevpraksia was the daughter of the sexton at the church of St. Nicholas-in-Drops. She was an all-round treasure.
Not alert in thinking, not ingenious, not even handy, but diligent, submissive, in no sense exigent.
When Yudushka "drew her nearer" to his person, her one request was to be permitted to take some cold cider without asking leave. Such disinterestedness touched even Yudushka. He immediately put at her disposal two tubs of pickled apples beside the cider, and freed her from accountability for any of these items.
Her exterior had nothing attractive in it to a connoisseur, but she was quite satisfactory to a man who was not fastidious and knew what he wanted.
She had a broad white face, a low forehead bordered with thin yellowish hair, large lack-lustre eyes, a perfectly straight nose, a flat mouth on which there played a mysterious elusive smile, such as one sees in the portraits painted by homebred artists.
In short there was nothing remarkable about her, except, perhaps, her back between her shoulder-blades, which was so broad and powerful that even the most indifferent man felt like giving her a good, hearty slap there.
She knew it, but did not mind it, so that when Yudushka for the first time patted the fat nape of her neck, she only twitched her shoulders.
Amidst these drab surroundings days wore on, one exactly like the other, without the slightest change, without the least hope of a brightening ray.
The arrival of Arina Petrovna was the one thing that brought a bit of animation. At first, when Porfiry Vladimirych had seen his mother's carriage approaching he had frowned, but in time he grew accustomed to her visits and even got to like them.
They catered to his loquacity, for even he found it impossible to chatter to himself when all alone. To babble about various records and reports with "mother dear" was very pleasant, and, once together, they talked from morning till night without having enough.
They discussed everything—the harvests of long ago and of the present; the way the landed gentry had lived in "those days;" the salt that had been so strong in former years; and the gherkins that were not what they had been in days gone by.
These chats had the advantage of flowing on like water and being forgotten without effort, so that they could be renewed with interest ad infinitum, and enjoyed each time as if just put into circulation.
Yevpraksia was present at these talks. Arina Petrovna came to love her so well that she would not have her away for a moment.
At times, when tired of talking, the three of them would sit down to play fool, and they would keep on playing till long after midnight.
They tried to teach Yevpraksia how to play whist with the dummy, but she could not understand the game.
On such evenings the enormous Golovliovo mansion became animated.
Lights shone in all the windows, shadows appeared here and there, so that a chance passer-by might think Heaven knows what celebration was going on.
Samovars, coffee pots, refreshments took their turn on the table, which was never empty.
Arina Petrovna's heart brimmed over with joy and merriment and instead of remaining for one day, she would spend three or four days at Golovliovo.