The first days of her existence in the country were very hard for
Dolly. She used to stay in the country as a child, and the
impression she had retained of it was that the country was a
refuge from all the unpleasantness of the town, that life there,
though not luxurious--Dolly could easily make up her mind to
that--was cheap and comfortable; that there was plenty of
everything, everything was cheap, everything could be got, and
children were happy. But now coming to the country as the head
of a family, she perceived that it was all utterly unlike what
she had fancied.
The day after their arrival there was a heavy fall of rain, and
in the night the water came through in the corridor and in the
nursery, so that the beds had to be carried into the drawing
room. There was no kitchen maid to be found; of the nine cows,
it appeared from the words of the cowherd-woman that some were
about to calve, others had just calved, others were old, and
others again hard-uddered; there was not butter nor milk enough
even for the children. There were no eggs. They could get no
fowls; old, purplish, stringy cocks were all they had for
roasting and boiling. Impossible to get women to scrub the
floors--all were potato-hoeing. Driving was out of the
question, because one of the horses was restive, and bolted in
the shafts. There was no place where they could bathe; the whole
of the river-bank was trampled by the cattle and open to the
road; even walks were impossible, for the cattle strayed into the
garden through a gap in the hedge, and there was one terrible
bull, who bellowed, and therefore might be expected to gore
somebody. There were no proper cupboards for their clothes; what
cupboards there were either would not close at all, or burst open
whenever anyone passed by them. There were no pots and pans;
there was no copper in the washhouse, nor even an ironing-board
in the maids' room.
Finding instead of peace and rest all these, from her point of
view, fearful calamities, Darya Alexandrovna was at first in
despair. She exerted herself to the utmost, felt the
hopelessness of the position, and was every instant suppressing
the tears that started into her eyes. The bailiff, a retired
quartermaster, whom Stepan Arkadyevitch had taken a fancy to and
had appointed bailiff on account of his handsome and respectful
appearance as a hall-porter, showed no sympathy for Darya
Alexandrovna's woes. He said respectfully, "nothing can be done,
the peasants are such a wretched lot," and did nothing to help
her.