Part Three: Chapter 11

by Leo Tolstoy

　　In the middle of July the elder of the village on Levin'ssister's estate, about fifteen miles from Pokrovskoe, came toLevin to report on how things were going there and on the hay.The chief source of income on his sister's estate was from theriverside meadows. In former years the hay had been bought bythe peasants for twenty roubles the three acres. When Levin tookover the management of the estate, he thought on examining thegrasslands that they were worth more, and he fixed the price attwenty-five roubles the three acres. The peasants would not givethat price, and, as Levin suspected, kept off other purchasers.Then Levin had driven over himself, and arranged to have thegrass cut, partly by hired labor, partly at a payment of acertain proportion of the crop. His own peasants put everyhindrance they could in the way of this new arrangement, but itwas carried out, and the first year the meadows had yielded aprofit almost double. The previous year--which was the thirdyear--the peasants had maintained the same opposition to thearrangement, and the hay had been cut on the same system. Thisyear the peasants were doing all the mowing for a third of thehay crop, and the village elder had come now to announce that thehay had been cut, and that, fearing rain, they had invited thecounting-house clerk over, had divided the crop in his presence,and had raked together eleven stacks as the owner's share. Fromthe vague answers to his question how much hay had been cut onthe principal meadow, from the hurry of the village elder who hadmade the division, not asking leave, from the whole tone of thepeasant, Levin perceived that there was something wrong in thedivision of the hay, and made up his mind to drive over himselfto look into the matter.

　　Arriving for dinner at the village, and leaving his horse at thecottage of an old friend of his, the husband of his brother'swet-nurse, Levin went to see the old man in his bee-house,wanting to find out from him the truth about the hay.Parmenitch, a talkative, comely old man, gave Levin a very warmwelcome, showed him all he was doing, told him everything abouthis bees and the swarms of that year; but gave vague andunwilling answers to Levin's inquiries about the mowing. Thisconfirmed Levin still more in his suspicions. He went to thehay fields and examined the stacks. The haystacks could notpossibly contain fifty wagon-loads each, and to convict thepeasants Levin ordered the wagons that had carried the hay to bebrought up directly, to lift one stack, and carry it into thebarn. There turned out to be only thirty-two loads in the stack.In spite of the village elder's assertions about thecompressibility of hay, and its having settled down in thestacks, and his swearing that everything had been done in thefear of God, Levin stuck to his point that the hay had beendivided without his orders, and that, therefore, he would notaccept that hay as fifty loads to a stack. After a prolongeddispute the matter was decided by the peasants taking theseeleven stacks, reckoning them as fifty loads each. The argumentsand the division of the haycocks lasted the whole afternoon.When the last of the hay had been divided, Levin, intrusting thesuperintendence of the rest to the counting-house clerk, sat downon a haycock marked off by a stake of willow, and lookedadmiringly at the meadow swarming with peasants.

　　In front of him, in the bend of the river beyond the marsh, moveda bright-colored line of peasant women, and the scattered hay wasbeing rapidly formed into gray winding rows over the pale greenstubble. After the women came the men with pitchforks, and fromthe gray rows there were growing up broad, high, soft haycocks.To the left, carts were rumbling over the meadow that had beenalready cleared, and one after another the haycocks vanished,flung up in huge forkfuls, and in their place there were risingheavy cartloads of fragrant hay hanging over the horses'hind-quarters.

　　"What weather for haying! What hay it'll be!" said an old man,squatting down beside Levin. "It's tea, not hay! It's likescattering grain to the ducks, the way they pick it up!" headded, pointing to the growing haycocks. "Since dinnertimethey've carried a good half of it."

　　"The last load, eh?" he shouted to a young peasant, who drove by,standing in the front of an empty cart, shaking the cord reins.

　　"The last, dad!" the lad shouted back, pulling in the horse, and,smiling, he looked round at a bright, rosy-checked peasant girlwho sat in the cart smiling too, and drove on.

　　"Who's that? Your son?" asked Levin.

　　"My baby," said the old man with a tender smile.

　　"What a fine fellow!"

　　"The lad's all right."

　　"Married already?"

　　"Yes, it's two years last St. Philip's day."

　　"Any children?"

　　"Children indeed! Why, for over a year he was innocent as a babehimself, and bashful too," answered the old man. "Well, the hay!It's as fragrant as tea!" he repeated, wishing to change thesubject.

　　Levin looked more attentively at Ivan Parmenov and his wife.They were loading a haycock onto the cart not far from him. IvanParmenov was standing on the cart, taking, laying in place, andstamping down the huge bundles of hay, which his pretty youngwife deftly handed up to him, at first in armfuls, and then onthe pitchfork. The young wife worked easily, merrily, anddexterously. The close-packed hay did not once break away offher fork. First she gathered it together, stuck the fork intoit, then with a rapid, supple movement leaned the whole weight ofher body on it, and at once with a bend of her back under the redbelt she drew herself up, and arching her full bosom under thewhite smock, with a smart turn swung the fork in her arms, andflung the bundle of hay high onto the cart. Ivan, obviouslydoing his best to save her every minute of unnecessary labor,made haste, opening his arms to clutch the bundle and lay it inthe cart. As she raked together what was left of the hay, theyoung wife shook off the bits of hay that had fallen on her neck,and straightening the red kerchief that had dropped forward overher white brow, not browned like her face by the sun, she creptunder the cart to tie up the load. Ivan directed her how tofasten the cord to the cross-piece, and at something she said helaughed aloud. In the expressions of both faces was to be seenvigorous, young, freshly awakened love.