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228
SÖNYA KOVALÉVSKY
— which helps us to get through the time nicely. I try to make
a little diversion in other ways. For instance, one day I asked
Julia to drive with me to the next village without the coachman,
persuading her that I could drive beautifully. We arrived safely
at our destination. But coming home the horses shied, came in
collision with a tree, and we were thrown into a ditch! Poor
Julia injured her foot, but I, the criminal, escaped unhurt from
the adventure.
A little later Sonya wrote to the same friend:
Our life here continues to be so monotonous that I have
nothing to say beyond thanking you for your letter. I have not even
thrown any one out of a carriage lately, and life flows tranquilly
as the water in the pond which adorns our garden, while my
brain seems to stand still. I sit with my work in my hand and
absolutely think of nothing.
In connection with this, it is worth while referring
to the extraordinary power Sonya had of being
completely idle when not engaged in her special work.
She often said she was never half so happy as during
these periods of entire laziness, when it was an effort
to rise from the chair into which she had sunk. At
such times the most trivial novel, the most mechanical
needlework, a few cigarettes, and some tea, were all
she required. It was probably very lucky for her that
she had this capacity for reaction against excessive
brain-work and the increasing mental excitement to
which she surrendered herself between whiles.
Perhaps it was the result of her Russo-German lineage,
each race by turns getting the upper hand and
causing these sudden changes. Nothing came of all her
projected travels. Sonya spent that whole summer
in Russia, and it was not until September that we met
in Stockholm.
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