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strides； swinging his arms。 And it was difficult to walk with him。
At the entrance to the copse stood a milestone。 Elizarov touched it；
read it。 Praskovya reached them out of breath。 Her wrinkled and always
scared…looking face was beaming with happiness； she had been at church
to…day like anyone else； then she had been to the fair and there had drunk
pear cider。 For her this was unusual； and it even seemed to her now that
she had lived for her own pleasure that day for the first time in her life。
After resting they all three walked on side by side。 The sun had already set；
and its beams filtered through the copse； casting a light on the trunks of
the trees。 There was a faint sound of voices ahead。 The Ukleevo girls had
long before pushed on ahead but had lingered in the copse； probably
gathering mushrooms。
〃Hey； wenches！〃 cried Elizarov。 〃Hey； my beauties！〃
There was a sound of laughter in response。
〃Crutch is coming！ Crutch！ The old horseradish。〃
And the echo laughed； too。 And then the copse was left behind。 The
tops of the factory chimneys came into view。 The cross on the belfry
glittered： this was the village： 〃the one at which the deacon ate all the
caviare at the funeral。〃 Now they were almost home； they only had to go
down into the big ravine。 Lipa and Praskovya； who had been walking
barefooted； sat down on the grass to put on their boots； Elizar sat down
with them。 If they looked down from above Ukleevo looked beautiful and
peaceful with its willow…trees； its white church； and its little river； and the
only blot on the picture was the roof of the factories； painted for the sake
of cheapness a gloomy ashen grey。 On the slope on the further side they
could see the rye some in stacks and sheaves here and there as though
strewn about by the storm； and some freshly cut lying in swathes； the oats；
too； were ripe and glistened now in the sun like mother…of…pearl。 It was
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harvest…time。 To…day was a holiday； to…morrow they would harvest the rye
and carry the hay； and then Sunday a holiday again； every day there were
mutterings of distant thunder。 It was misty and looked like rain； and；
gazing now at the fields； everyone thought； God grant we get the harvest
in in time； and everyone felt gay and joyful and anxious at heart。
〃Mowers ask a high price nowadays；〃 said Praskovya。 〃One rouble
and forty kopecks a day。〃
People kept coming and coming from the fair at Kazanskoe： peasant
women； factory workers in new caps； beggars； children。 。 。 。 Here a cart
would drive by stirring up the dust and behind it would run an unsold
horse； and it seemed glad it had not been sold； then a cow was led along
by the horns； resisting stubbornly； then a cart again； and in it drunken
peasants swinging their legs。 An old woman led a little boy in a big cap
and big boots； the boy was tired out with the heat and the heavy boots
which prevented his bending his legs at the knees； but yet blew
unceasingly with all his might at a tin trumpet。 They had gone down the
slope and turned into the street； but the trumpet could still be heard。
〃Our factory owners don't seem quite themselves 。 。 。〃 said Elizarov。
〃There's trouble。 Kostukov is angry with me。 'Too many boards have gone
on the cornices。' 'Too many？ As many have gone on it as were needed；
Vassily Danilitch； I don't eat them with my porridge。' 'How can you speak
to me like that？' said he； 'you good…for…nothing blockhead！ Don't forget
yourself！ It was I made you a contractor。' 'That's nothing so wonderful；'
said I。 'Even before I was a contractor I used to have tea every day。' 'You
are a rascal 。 。 。' he said。 I said nothing。 'We are rascals in this world；'
thought I； 'and you will be rascals in the next。 。 。 。' Ha…ha…ha！ The next day
he was softer。 'Don't you bear malice against me for my words； Makaritch；'
he said。 'If I said too much；' says he； 'what of it？ I am a merchant of the
first guild； your superior you ought to hold your tongue。' 'You；' said I；
'are a merchant of the first guild and I am a carpenter； that's correct。 And
Saint Joseph was a carpenter； too。 Ours is a righteous calling and pleasing
to God； and if you are pleased to be my superior you are very welcome to
it； Vassily Danilitch。' And later on； after that conversation I mean； I
thought： 'Which was the superior？ A merchant of the first guild or a
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carpenter？' The carpenter must be； my child！〃
Crutch thought a minute and added：
〃Yes； that's how it is； child。 He who works； he who is patient is the
superior。〃
By now the sun had set and a thick mist as white as milk was rising
over the river； in the church enclosure； and in the open spaces round the
factories。 Now when the darkness was coming on rapidly； when lights
were twinkling belo w； and when it seemed as though the mists were
hiding a fathomless abyss； Lipa and her mother who were born in poverty
and prepared to live so till the end； giving up to others everything except
their frightened； gentle souls； may have fancied for a minute perhaps that
in the vast； mysterious world； among the endless series of lives； they； too；
counted for something； and they； too； were superior to someone； they liked
sitting here at the top； they smiled happily and forgot that they must go
down below again all the same。
At last they went home again。 The mowers were sitting on the ground
at the gates near the shop。 As a rule the Ukleevo peasants did not go to
Tsybukin's to work； and they had to hire strangers； and now in the
darkness it seemed as though there were men sitting there with long black
beards。 The shop was open； and through the doorway they could see the
deaf man playing draughts with a boy。 The mowers were singing softly；
scarcely audibly； or loudly demanding their wages for the previous day；
but they were not paid for fear they should go away before to…morrow。 Old
Tsybukin； with his coat off； was sitting in his waistcoat with Aksinya
under the birch…tree； drinking tea； a lamp was burning on the table。
〃I say； grandfather；〃 a mower called f