XIV.
"Had I not better go home?" thought Nekhlyúdov, walking up to Dutlóv's gate, and feeling an indefinable melancholy and moral fatigue.
Just then the new plank gate opened before him with a creak, and a fine-looking, ruddy, light-complexioned lad, of about eighteen years of age, in driver's attire, appeared in the gateway, leading behind him a set of three stout-legged, sweaty, shaggy horses; boldly shaking his flaxen hair, he bowed to the master.
"Is your father at home, Ilуá? " asked Nekhlyúdov.
"He is with the bees, back of the yard," answered the lad, leading one horse after another through the half-open gate.
"No, I will stick to my determination; I will make the proposition to him, and will do my part," thought Nekhlyúdov, and, letting the horses pass by, he went into Dutlóv's spacious yard. He could see that the manure had lately been removed: the earth was still black and sweaty, and in places, particularly near the gate, lay scattered red-fibred shreds. In the yard, and under the high sheds, stood in good order many carts, ploughs, sleighs, blocks, tubs, and all kinds of peasant possessions. Pigeons flitted to and fro and cooed in the shade under the broad, solid rafters. There was an odour of manure and tar.
In one corner Karp and Ignát were fixing a new transom-bed on a large, three-horse, steel-rimmed cart. Dutlóv's three sons resembled each other very much. The
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