Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude.
e were in some way to blame. Behind her, with the same offended look, stood a wealthy young man, and examining magistrate, whom Peter Ivanovich also knew and who was her fiance, as he had heard. He bowed mournfully to them and was about to pass into the death-chamber, when from under the stairs appeared the figure of Ivan Ilych's schoolboy son, who was extremely like his father. He seemed a little Ivan Ilych, such as Peter Ivanovich remembered when they studied law together. His tear-stained eyes had in them the look that is seen in the eyes of boys of thirteen or fourteen who are not pure-minded. When he saw Peter Ivanovich he scowled morosely and shamefacedly. Peter Ivanovich nodded to him and entered the death-chamber. The service began: candles, groans, incense, tears, and sobs. Peter Ivanovich stood looking gloomily down at his feet. He did not look once at the dead man, did not yield to any depressing influence, and was one of the first to leave the room. There was no one in the anteroom, but Gerasim da
reading this book felt like an ever accelerating free fall into the jaws of darkness & death--where, at the very last moments of his life --our protagonist - unable to articulate by this time, but in a state of a greater knowingness, finally experiences a truth that results in understanding and compassion. I believe this book was written when Tolstoy was at the height of a religious conversion (Epiphany)
This is a brilliant and incredibly insightful book. I highly recommend it.
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