was preparing to fight a duel with him, intending to use a blank
cartridge, and the ensuing scene where she, in despair, ran to the
pond, intending to drown herself, while he ran to search for her. "I
cannot go now, and can undertake nothing until I have heard from her,"
thought Nekhludoff. The preceding week he had written to her a
decisive letter, acknowledging his guilt, and expressing his readiness
to redeem it in any manner she should suggest, but for her own good,
considered their relations ended. It is to this letter that he
expected a reply. He considered it a favorable sign that no reply
came. If she had not consented to a separation, she would have
answered long ago, or would have come personally, as she often did
before. Nekhludoff had heard that an army officer was courting her,
and while he was tormented by jealousy, he was at the same time
gladdened by the hope of release from the oppressive lie.

The other letter was from the steward in charge of his estates.
Nekhludoff was requested to return and establish his right to the
inheritance and also to decide on the future management of the
estates; whether the same system of letting out to the peasants, which
prevailed during the lifetime of his mother, was to be continued, or,
as the steward had strongly advised the deceased Princess, and now
advised the young Prince, to augment the stock and work all the land
himself. The steward wrote that the land could thus best be exploited.
He also apologized for his failure to send the three thousand rubles
due on the first of the month, which he would send by the next mail,
explaining it by the difficulty of collecting the rents from the
peasants whose bad faith had reached a point where it became necessary
to resort to the courts to collect them. This letter was partly
agreeable and partly disagreeable to Nekhludoff. It was agreeable to
feel the power of authority over so vast an estate, and it was