United States or Nauru ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The little piece left uncut in the corner was mown in five minutes. The last of the mowers were just ending their rows while the foremost snatched up their coats onto their shoulders, and crossed the road towards Mashkin Upland. The sun was already sinking into the trees when they went with their jingling dippers into the wooded ravine of Mashkin Upland.
Levin walked after him and often thought he must fall, as he climbed with a scythe up a steep cliff where it would have been hard work to clamber without anything. But he climbed up and did what he had to do. He felt as though some external force were moving him. Mashkin Upland was mown, the last row finished, the peasants had put on their coats and were gaily trudging home.
But Levin felt a longing to get as much mowing done that day as possible, and was vexed with the sun sinking so quickly in the sky. He felt no weariness; all he wanted was to get his work done more and more quickly and as much done as possible. "Could you cut Mashkin Upland too? what do you think?" he said to the old man. "As God wills, the sun's not high. A little vodka for the lads?"
At the afternoon rest, when they were sitting down again, and those who smoked had lighted their pipes, the old man told the men that "Mashkin Upland's to be cut there'll be some vodka." "Why not cut it? Come on, Tit! We'll look sharp! We can eat at night. Come on!" cried voices, and eating up their bread, the mowers went back to work.
Word Of The Day