Anna Karenina - Part 3

"What have they been ploughing?" asked Levin.

"Ploughing up the potatoes. We rent a bit of land too. Fedot,

don't let out the gelding, but take it to the trough, and we'll

put the other in harness."

"Oh, father, the ploughshares I ordered, has he brought them

along?" asked the big, healthy-looking fellow, obviously the old

man's son.

"There...in the outer room," answered the old man, bundling

together the harness he had taken off, and flinging it on the

ground. "You can put them on, while they have dinner."

The good-looking young woman came into the outer room with the

full pails dragging at her shoulders. More women came on the

scene from somewhere, young and handsome, middle-aged, old and

ugly, with children and without children.

The samovar was beginning to sing; the laborers and the family,

having disposed of the horses, came in to dinner. Levin, getting

his provisions out of his carriage, invited the old man to take

tea with him.

"Well, I have had some today already," said the old man,

obviously accepting the invitation with pleasure. "But just a

glass for company."

Over their tea Levin heard all about the old man's farming. Ten

years before, the old man had rented three hundred acres from the

lady who owned them, and a year ago he had bought them and rented

another three hundred from a neighboring landowner. A small part

of the land--the worst part--he let out for rent, while a

hundred acres of arable land he cultivated himself with his

family and two hired laborers. The old man complained that

things were doing badly. But Levin saw that he simply did so

from a feeling of propriety, and that his farm was in a

flourishing condition. If it had been unsuccessful he would not

have bought land at thirty-five roubles the acre, he would not

have married his three sons and a nephew, he would not have

rebuilt twice after fires, and each time on a larger scale. In

spite of the old man's complaints, it was evident that he was

proud, and justly proud, of his prosperity, proud of his sons,

his nephew, his sons' wives, his horses and his cows, and

especially of the fact that he was keeping all this farming

going. From his conversation with the old man, Levin thought he

was not averse to new methods either. He had planted a great

many potatoes, and his potatoes, as Levin had seen driving past,

were already past flowering and beginning to die down, while

Levin's were only just coming into flower. He earthed up his

potatoes with a modern plough borrowed from a neighboring

landowner. He sowed wheat. The trifling fact that, thinning out

his rye, the old man used the rye he thinned out for his horses,

specially struck Levin. How many times had Levin seen this

splendid fodder wasted, and tried to get it saved; but always it

had turned out to be impossible. The peasant got this done, and

he could not say enough in praise of it as food for the beasts.