"Come, master, taste my sop," said he, kneeling down before the

cup.

The sop was so good that Levin gave up the idea of going home.

He dined with the old man, and talked to him about his family

affairs, taking the keenest interest in them, and told him about

his own affairs and all the circumstances that could be of

interest to the old man. He felt much nearer to him than to his

brother, and could not help smiling at the affection he felt for

this man. When the old man got up again, said his prayer, and

lay down under a bush, putting some grass under his head for a

Advertisement..

pillow, Levin did the same, and in spite of the clinging flies

that were so persistent in the sunshine, and the midges that

tickled his hot face and body, he fell asleep at once and only

waked when the sun had passed to the other side of the bush and

reached him. The old man had been awake a long while, and was

sitting up whetting the scythes of the younger lads.

Levin looked about him and hardly recognized the place,

everything was so changed. The immense stretch of meadow had

been mown and was sparkling with a peculiar fresh brilliance,

with its lines of already sweet-smelling grass in the slanting

rays of the evening sun. And the bushes about the river had been

cut down, and the river itself, not visible before, now gleaming

like steel in its bends, and the moving, ascending, peasants, and

the sharp wall of grass of the unmown part of the meadow, and the

hawks hovering over the stripped meadow--all was perfectly new.

Raising himself, Levin began considering how much had been cut

and how much more could still be done that day.

The work done was exceptionally much for forty-two men. They had

cut the whole of the big meadow, which had, in the years of serf

labor, taken thirty scythes two days to mow. Only the corners

remained to do, where the rows were short. But Levin felt a

longing to get as much mowing done that day as possible, and was

vexed with the sun sinking so quickly in the sky. He felt no

weariness; all he wanted was to get his work done more and more

quickly and as much done as possible.

"Could you cut Mashkin Upland too?--what do you think?" he said

to the old man.

"As God wills, the sun's not high. A little vodka for the lads?"

At the afternoon rest, when they were sitting down again, and

those who smoked had lighted their pipes, the old man told the

men that "Mashkin Upland's to be cut--there'll be some vodka."




Most Popular