peasant, and his daughter-in-law, a soldier's wife, who is about
to become a mother. On the part of the shoemaker go his wife, a stout
laborer, and her aged mother, who has reached her eightieth year, and who
generally goes begging. They all stand in line, and labor from morning
till night, in the full fervor of the June sun. It is steaming hot, and
rain threatens. Every hour of work is precious. It is a pity to tear
one's self from work to fetch water or kvas. A tiny boy, the old woman's
grandson, brings them water. The old woman, evidently only anxious lest
she shall be driven away from her work, will not let the rake out of her
hand, though it is evident that she can barely move, and only with
difficulty. The little boy, all bent over, and stepping gently, with his
tiny bare feet, drags along a jug of water, shifting it from hand to
hand, for it is heavier than he. The young girl flings over her shoulder
a load of hay which is also heavier than herself, advances a few steps,
halts, and drops it, without the strength to carry it. The old woman of
fifty rakes away without stopping, and with her kerchief awry she drags
the hay, breathing heavily and tottering. The old woman of eighty only
rakes the hay, but even this is beyond her strength; she slowly drags
along her feet, shod with bast shoes, and, frowning, she gazes gloomily
before her, like a seriously ill or dying person. The old man has
intentionally sent her farther away than the rest, to rake near the cocks
of hay, so that she may not keep in line with the others; but she does
not fall in with this arrangement, and she toils on as long as the others
do, with the same death-like, gloomy countenance. The sun is already
setting behind the forest; but the cocks are not yet all heaped together,
and much still remains to do. All feel that it is time to stop, but no
one speaks, waiting until the others shall say it. Finally the
shoemaker, conscious that his strength is exhausted, proposes to the old
man, to leave the cocks until the morrow; and the old man consents, and
the women instantly run for the garments, jugs, pitchforks; and the old
woman immediately sits down just where she has been standings and then
lies back with the same death-like look, staring straight in front of
her. But the women are going; and she rises with a groan, and drags
herself after them. And this will go on in July also, when the peasants,
without obtaining sufficient sleep, r