to read it then.

"You may if you wish," was the reply, "but I shall probably make some
changes, and I should prefer that you would wait; but that shall be as
you please."

His wife said that he might suddenly take a fancy to view the subject
from an entirely different point, and write the book all over.

I declined to anticipate my future pleasure by even glancing at it, and
I asked no questions. Neither did I ask to see "The Fruits of
Civilization," which was already written and named, I was not there to
exploit their hospitality.

The count and his wife differed as to what ought to be the fate of the
coming volume. He wished to give it to the world (that is, to some
publisher) for nothing. She argued that some one, the publisher at
least, would make money out of it; then why not let his own family have
the profit, as was just? He insisted that it was wrong, inconsistent, in
the same strain as he discusses the subject of his writings in "What to
Do?" But she urged him, in case he would not consent to justice, to
leave the manuscript with her, unpublished, so that the family could use
it after his death. (When the book was ready it was named "The Kreutzer
Sonata.")

I think that every one must side with the countess in her view of this
matter and in her management of the family. It is owing solely to her
that the younger members of the family are receiving that education to
fit them for their struggle with life which her husband bestowed upon
the elder members voluntarily. It is due to her alone, also, that her
husband is still alive. It is not an easy task to protect the count
against himself. One adds to one's admiration for the count's literary
genius an admiration for the countess's talent and good sense by an
extended acquaintance with this family.

More than one community has been organized for the express purpose of
carrying out the life of toil which Count Tolstoy has advocated at
times. One of these communities, of which I had direct information,
purchased an estate of a landed proprietor, including the manor house,
and began to work. This acquisition of an estate by them, while the
count would like to give away his as sinful to retain, does not strike
one as a good beginning. However, they did not use the manor house, but
lived in one small peasant hut. "They all slept on the floor and
benches, men and women," said a Russian to me. A wealthy man had sold
his property to join this community against the