The day on which Sergey Ivanovitch came to Pokrovskoe was one of Levin's most painful days. It was the very busiest working time, when all the peasantry show an extraordinary intensity1 of self-sacrifice in labor2, such as is never shown in any other conditions of life, and would be highly esteemed3 if the men who showed these qualities themselves thought highly of them, and if it were not repeated every year, and if the results of this intense labor were not so simple.
To reap and bind4 the rye and oats and to carry it, to mow5 the meadows, turn over the fallows, thrash the seed and sow the winter corn--all this seems so simple and ordinary; but to succeed in getting through it all everyone in the village, from the old man to the young child, must toil6 incessantly7 for three or four weeks, three times as hard as usual, living on rye-beer, onions, and black bread, thrashing and carrying the sheaves at night, and not giving more than two or three hours in the twenty-four to sleep. And every year this is done all over Russia.
Having lived the greater part of his life in the country and in the closest relations with the peasants, Levin always felt in this busy time that he was infected by this general quickening of energy in the people.
In the early morning he rode over to the first sowing of the rye, and to the oats, which were being carried to the stacks, and returning home at the time his wife and sister-in-law were getting up, he drank coffee with them and walked to the farm, where a new thrashing machine was to be set working to get ready the seed-corn.
He was standing8 in the cool granary, still fragrant9 with the leaves of the hazel branches interlaced on the freshly peeled aspen beams of the new thatch10 roof. He gazed through the open door in which the dry bitter dust of the thrashing whirled and played, at the grass of the thrashing floor in the sunlight and the fresh straw that had been brought in from the barn, then at the speckly-headed, white-breasted swallows that flew chirping11 in under the roof and, fluttering their wings, settled in the crevices12 of the doorway13, then at the peasants bustling14 in the dark, dusty barn, and he thought strange thoughts.
"Why is it all being done?" he thought. "Why am I standing here, making them work? What are they all so busy for, trying to show their zeal15 before me? What is that old Matrona, my old friend, toiling16 for? (I doctored her, when the beam fell on her in the fire)" he thought, looking at a thin old woman who was raking up the grain, moving painfully with her bare, sun-blackened feet over the uneven17, rough floor. "Then she recovered, but today or tomorrow or in ten years she won't; they'll bury her, and nothing will be left either of her or of that smart girl in the red jacket, who with that skillful, soft action shakes the ears out of their husks. They'll bury her and this piebald horse, and very soon too," he thought, gazing at the heavily moving, panting horse that kept walking up the wheel that turned under him. "And they will bury her and Fyodor the thrasher with his curly beard full of chaff18 and his shirt torn on his white shoulders--they will bury him. He's untying19 the sheaves, and giving orders, and shouting to the women, and quickly setting straight the strap20 on the moving wheel. And what's more, it's not them alone--me they'll bury too, and nothing will be left. What for?"
He thought this, and at the same time looked at his watch to reckon how much they thrashed in an hour. He wanted to know this so as to judge by it the task to set for the day.
"It'll soon be one, and they're only beginning the third sheaf," thought Levin. He went up to the man that was feeding the machine, and shouting over the roar of the machine he told him to put it in more slowly. "You put in too much at a time, Fyodor. Do you see--it gets choked, that's why it isn't getting on. Do it evenly."
Fyodor, black with the dust that clung to his moist face, shouted something in response, but still went on doing it as Levin did not want him to.
Levin, going up to the machine, moved Fyodor aside, and began feeding the corn in himself. Working on till the peasants' dinner hour, which was not long in coming, he went out of the barn with Fyodor and fell into talk with him, stopping beside a neat yellow sheaf of rye laid on the thrashing floor for seed.
Fyodor came from a village at some distance from the one in which Levin had once allotted21 land to his cooperative association. Now it had been let to a former house porter.
Levin talked to Fyodor about this land and asked whether Platon, a well-to-do peasant of good character belonging to the same village, would not take the land for the coming year.
"It's a high rent; it wouldn't pay Platon, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," answered the peasant, picking the ears off his sweat-drenched shirt.
"But how does Kirillov make it pay?"
"Mituh!" (so the peasant called the house porter, in a tone of contempt), "you may be sure he'll make it pay, Konstantin Dmitrievitch! He'll get his share, however he has to squeeze to get it! He's no mercy on a Christian22. But Uncle Fokanitch" (so he called the old peasant Platon), "do you suppose he'd flay23 the skin off a man? Where there's debt, he'll let anyone off. And he'll not wring24 the last penny out. He's a man too."
"But why will he let anyone off?"
"Oh, well, of course, folks are different. One man lives for his own wants and nothing else, like Mituh, he only thinks of filling his belly25, but Fokanitch is a righteous man. He lives for his soul. He does not forget God."
"How thinks of God? How does he live for his soul?" Levin almost shouted.
"Why, to be sure, in truth, in God's way. Folks are different. Take you now, you wouldn't wrong a man...."
"Yes, yes, good-bye!" said Levin, breathless with excitement, and turning round he took his stick and walked quickly away towards home. At the peasant's words that Fokanitch lived for his soul, in truth, in God's way, undefined but significant ideas seemed to burst out as though they had been locked up, and all striving towards one goal, they thronged26 whirling through his head, blinding him with their light.
1 intensity | |
n.强烈,剧烈;强度;烈度 | |
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2 labor | |
n.劳动,努力,工作,劳工;分娩;vi.劳动,努力,苦干;vt.详细分析;麻烦 | |
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3 esteemed | |
adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 );敬重;认为;以为 | |
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4 bind | |
vt.捆,包扎;装订;约束;使凝固;vi.变硬 | |
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5 mow | |
v.割(草、麦等),扫射,皱眉;n.草堆,谷物堆 | |
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6 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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7 incessantly | |
ad.不停地 | |
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8 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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9 fragrant | |
adj.芬香的,馥郁的,愉快的 | |
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10 thatch | |
vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部;n.茅草(屋) | |
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11 chirping | |
鸟叫,虫鸣( chirp的现在分词 ) | |
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12 crevices | |
n.(尤指岩石的)裂缝,缺口( crevice的名词复数 ) | |
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13 doorway | |
n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
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14 bustling | |
adj.喧闹的 | |
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15 zeal | |
n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
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16 toiling | |
长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 ); 艰难缓慢地移动,跋涉 | |
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17 uneven | |
adj.不平坦的,不规则的,不均匀的 | |
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18 chaff | |
v.取笑,嘲笑;n.谷壳 | |
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19 untying | |
untie的现在分词 | |
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20 strap | |
n.皮带,带子;v.用带扣住,束牢;用绷带包扎 | |
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21 allotted | |
分配,拨给,摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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23 flay | |
vt.剥皮;痛骂 | |
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24 wring | |
n.扭绞;v.拧,绞出,扭 | |
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25 belly | |
n.肚子,腹部;(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分,膛 | |
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26 thronged | |
v.成群,挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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