| PART 3
Chapter 5
 After lunch Levin was not in the same place in the string of
 mowers as before, but stood between the old man who had accosted
 him jocosely, and now invited him to be his neighbor, and a young
 peasant, who had only been married in the autumn, and who was
 mowing this summer for the first time. The old man, holding himself erect, moved in front, with his feet
 turned out, taking long, regular strides, and with a precise and
 regular action which seemed to cost him no more effort than
 swinging one's arms in walking, as though it were in play, he
 laid down the high, even row of grass.  It was as though it were
 not he but the sharp scythe of itself swishing through the juicy
 grass. Behind Levin came the lad Mishka.  His pretty, boyish face, with
 a twist of fresh grass bound round his hair, was all working with
 effort; but whenever anyone looked at him he smiled.  He would
 clearly have died sooner than own it was hard work for him. Levin kept between them.  In the very heat of the day the mowing
 did not seem such hard work to him.  The perspiration with which
 he was drenched cooled him, while the sun, that burned his back,
 his head, and his arms, bare to the elbow, gave a vigor and
 dogged energy to his labor; and more and more often now came
 those moments of unconsciousness, when it was possible not to
 think what one was doing.  The scythe cut of itself.  These were
 happy moments.  Still more delightful were the moments when they
 reached the stream where the rows ended, and the old man rubbed
 his scythe with the wet, thick grass, rinsed its blade in
 the fresh water of the stream, ladled out a little in a tin
 dipper, and offered Levin a drink. "What do you say to my home-brew, eh?  Good, eh?" said he,
 winking. And truly Levin had never drunk any liquor so good as this warm
 water with green bits floating in it, and a taste of rust from
 the tin dipper.  And immediately after this came the delicious,
 slow saunter, with his hand on the scythe, during which he could
 wipe away the streaming sweat, take deep breaths of air, and look
 about at the long string of mowers and at what was happening
 around in the forest and the country. |