"Personal opinions mean nothing in such a case," said Sergey
Ivanovitch; "it's not a matter of personal opinions when all
Russia--the whole people--has expressed its will."
"But excuse me, I don't see that. The people don't know anything
about it, if you come to that," said the old prince.
"Oh, papa!...how can you say that? And last Sunday in church?"
said Dolly, listening to the conversation. "Please give me a
cloth," she said to the old man, who was looking at the children
with a smile. "Why, it's not possible that all..."
"But what was it in church on Sunday? The priest had been told
to read that. He read it. They didn't understand a word of it.
Then they were told that there was to be a collection for a pious
object in church; well, they pulled out their halfpence and gave
them, but what for they couldn't say."
"The people cannot help knowing; the sense of their own destinies
is always in the people, and at such moments as the present that
sense finds utterance," said Sergey Ivanovitch with conviction,
glancing at the old bee-keeper.
The handsome old man, with black grizzled beard and thick silvery
hair, stood motionless, holding a cup of honey, looking down from
the height of his tall figure with friendly serenity at the
gentlefolk, obviously understanding nothing of their conversation
and not caring to understand it.
"That's so, no doubt," he said, with a significant shake of his
head at Sergey Ivanovitch's words.
"Here, then, ask him. He knows nothing about it and thinks
nothing," said Levin. "Have you heard about the war, Mihalitch?"
he said, turning to him. "What they read in the church? What do
you think about it? Ought we to fight for the Christians?"
"What should we think? Alexander Nikolaevitch our Emperor has
thought for us; he thinks for us indeed in all things. It's
clearer for him to see. Shall I bring a bit more bread? Give
the little lad some more?" he said addressing Darya Alexandrovna
and pointing to Grisha, who had finished his crust.
"I don't need to ask," said Sergey Ivanovitch, "we have seen and
are seeing hundreds and hundreds of people who give up everything
to serve a just cause, come from every part of Russia, and
directly and clearly express their thought and aim. They bring
their halfpence or go themselves and say directly what for. What
does it mean?"
"It means, to my thinking," said Levin, who was beginning to get
warm, "that among eighty millions of people there can always be
found not hundreds, as now, but tens of thousands of people who
have lost caste, ne'er-do-wells, who are always ready to go
anywhere--to Pogatchev's bands, to Khiva, to Serbia..."