horses,
came up to the shore early in the morning. Shouting and singing, they
scattered on the decks and in an instant work started expeditiously.
Having descended into the holds, the women were filling the sacks with
rye, the peasants, throwing the sacks upon their shoulders, ran over the
gang-planks to the shore, and from the shore, carts, heavily laden with
the long-expected corn, went off slowly to the village. The women sang
songs; the peasants jested and gaily abused one another; the sailors
representing the guardians of peace, scolded the working people now and
then; the gang-planks, bending under the feet of the carriers, splashed
against the water heavily; while on the shore the horses neighed, and
the carts and the sand under the wheels were creaking.

The sun had just risen, the air was fresh and invigorating and densely
filled with the odour of pines; the calm water of the river, reflecting
the clear sky, was gently murmuring, breaking against the sides of the
vessels and the chains of the anchors. The loud and cheerful noise
of toil, the youthful beauty of nature, gaily illumined by the
sunbeams--all was full of a kind-hearted, somewhat crude, sound power,
which pleasantly stirred Foma's soul, awakening in him new and perplexed
sensations and desires. He was sitting by the table under the awning of
the steamer and drinking tea, together with Yefim and the receiver of
the corn, a provincial clerk--a redheaded, short-sighted gentleman in
glasses. Nervously shrugging his shoulders the receiver was telling in
a hoarse voice how the peasants were starving, but Foma paid little
attention to his words, looking now at the work below, now at the other
side of the river--a tall, yellow, sandy steep shore, whose edges were
covered with pine trees. It was unpeopled and quiet.

"I'll have to go over there," thought Foma. And as though from a
distance the receiver's tiresome, unpleasant, harsh voice fell on his
ears:

"You wouldn't believe it--at last it became horrible! Such an incident
took place! A peasant came up to a certain intelligent man in Osa and
brought along with him a girl about sixteen years old.

"'What do you wish?"

"'Here,' he says, 'I've brought my daughter to your Honour.'

"'What for?'

"'Perhaps,' he says, 'you'll take her--you are a bachelor.'

"'That is, how? What do you mean?'

"'I took her around town,' he says. 'I wanted to hire her out as a
servant--but nobody would have her--take h