ail, to seize every piece
of property which the peasant has in the world--his cow, his bed, his
clothing, even the uncut corn upon his little field, the very bread from
off his table. Where is that lord? Has he no heart, no mercy? Alas! he
is far away, in Vienna, in Rome, in Paris. He is at the Carnival, the
opera, the club-house. He has presented a diamond necklace to Schneider,
he has bought a new race-horse, he has lost fifty thousand francs at
_rouge et noir_. Meanwhile, his agent and the law do his cruel bidding
far away at home upon the bleak plains of Russia, and the peasant works
under them as Damocles sat under the sword.

In such peril and fear shall the woman stand idle? Idle she never is,
even from inclination, her household duties, the care of the young, the
ministration to the sick and feeble, the preparation of the daily meal,
being sufficient to keep her fully employed. But shall she stop at these
when failure on the man's part may to-morrow sweep away not only the few
articles of clothing and the one or two of furniture they possess, but
also the food which is to last them during the coming year? The thought
is death itself. She must go to the fields. No matter how young her
child, nor how near to death her aged mother or father; no matter how
rigorous the climate or deficient her clothing: she must go to the
fields. They are miles away, perhaps--for in Russia, serfdom, the
communal system and other circumstances have forced the peasantry to
live in villages--but go she must, with the child on her back or left
ailing and uncared-for in the hut, with the sick or dying behind her and
misery all around. Arrived at the scene of her unnatural labors, she
applies herself to them with an energy which despair alone could
engender, and which ends in completely unsexing her. She becomes
weatherbeaten, coarse and repulsive. Her hands are like knots of wood;
she is covered with dirt; her bones have grown large; her step is
ungainly; she speaks in husky tones; she swears, drinks and fights.
Meanwhile the corn ripens. After gigantic efforts she succeeds in
harvesting it. At best it would have repaid the seed but three times,
but gathered and threshed with insufficient skill or barbarous tools, it
scarcely more than doubles the perilous investment. Then this poor
creature casts herself upon the earth and weeps, for are not both parent
and child dead from exposure, from insufficient food, from the lack of
that attentio