Anna Karenina (Penguin) - Leo Tolstoy [96]
In such dreams, turning the horse carefully along the borders, so as not to trample his green wheat, he rode up to the workers who were sowing clover. The cart with the seed stood not at the edge but in the field, and the winter wheat was all dug up by the wheels and the horse. The two workers were sitting on a balk, probably taking turns smoking a pipe. The soil in the cart, with which the seed was mixed, had not been rubbed fine, but was caked or frozen in lumps. Seeing the master, the worker Vassily went to the cart, while Mishka started sowing. This was not good, but Levin seldom got angry with hired workers. When Vassily came up, Levin told him to take the horse to the edge.
‘Never mind, sir, it’ll grow back,’ Vassily replied.
‘No discussion, please,’ said Levin, ‘just do as you’ve been told.’
‘Right, sir,’ said Vassily, and he took hold of the horse’s head. ‘And the sowing is first rate, Konstantin Dmitrich,’ he said, fawning. ‘Only the walking’s pretty terrible! You drag ten pounds on each shoe.’
‘And why hasn’t the soil been sifted?’ Levin asked.
‘We break it up with our hands,’ Vassily answered, taking some seed and rubbing the lump between his hands.
It was not Vassily’s fault that they had given him unsifted soil, but it was vexing all the same.
Having already experienced more than once the usefulness of the remedy he knew for stifling his vexation and turning all that seemed bad back to good, Levin employed it here as well. He looked at how Mishka strode along, lugging huge lumps of earth stuck to each foot, got off his horse, took the seed basket from Vassily, and went to sow.
‘Where did you stop?’
Vassily pointed to a mark with his foot, and Levin went, as well as he could, scattering the seeds mixed with soil. It was hard walking, as through a swamp, and having gone one row, Levin became sweaty, stopped and handed the seed basket back.
‘Well, master, mind you don’t scold me for this row come summer,’ said Vassily.
‘What for?’ Levin said gaily, already feeling the effectiveness of the remedy.
‘You’ll see come summer. It’ll be different. You just take a look where I sowed last spring. So neat! You know, Konstantin Dmitrich, it seems I try and do it as I would for my own father. I don’t like doing bad work myself and I tell others the same. If the master’s pleased, so are we. Look there now,’ Vassily said, pointing to the field, ‘it brings joy to your heart.’
‘It’s a fine spring, Vassily.’
‘Such a spring as the old folk don’t remember. I went home, and our old man there has also sowed two acres of wheat. He says you can’t tell it from rye.’
‘How long have you been sowing wheat?’
‘Why, it’s you that taught us two years ago. And you gave me two bushels. We sold a quarter of it and sowed the rest.’
‘Well, make sure you rub out these lumps,’ said Levin, going towards his horse, ‘and keep an eye on Mishka. If it comes up well, you’ll get fifty kopecks per acre.’
‘Thank you kindly. Seems we’re right pleased with you anyway.’
Levin mounted his horse and rode to the field where last year’s clover was and to the one that had been ploughed for the spring wheat.
The clover sprouting among the stubble was wonderful. It was all revived already and steadily greening among the broken stalks of last year’s wheat. The horse sank fetlock-deep, and each of his hoofs made a sucking sound as it was pulled from the half-thawed ground. It was quite impossible to go across the ploughed field: it held only where there was ice, but in the thawed furrows the leg sank over the fetlocks.