THE PEASANTS' LOT.
When Nekhludoff came out of the gate he met the girl with the long earrings on the well-trodden path that lay across the pasture ground, overgrown with dock and plantain leaves. She had a long, brightly-coloured apron on, and was quickly swinging her left arm in front of herself as she stepped briskly with her fat, bare feet. With her right arm she was pressing a fowl to her stomach. The fowl, with red comb shaking, seemed perfectly calm; he only rolled up his eyes and stretched out and drew in one black leg, clawing the girl's apron. When the girl came nearer to "the master," she began moving more slowly, and her run changed into a walk. When she came up to him she stopped, and, after a backward jerk with her head, bowed to him; and only when he had passed did she recommence to run homeward with the cock. As he went down towards the well, he met an old woman, who had a coarse dirty blouse on, carrying two pails full of water, that hung on a yoke across her bent back. The old woman carefully put down the pails and bowed, with the same backward jerk of her head.
After passing the well Nekhludoff entered the village. It was a bright, hot day, and oppressive, though only ten o'clock. At intervals the sun was hidden by the gathering clouds. An unpleasant, sharp smell of manure filled the air in the street. It came from carts going up the hillside, but chiefly from the disturbed manure heaps in the yards of the huts, by the open gates of which Nekhludoff had to pass. The peasants, barefooted, their shirts and trousers soiled with manure, turned to look at the tall, stout gentleman with the glossy silk ribbon on his grey hat who was walking up the village street, touching the ground every other step with a shiny, bright-knobbed walking-stick. The peasants returning from the fields at a trot and jotting in their empty carts, took off their hats, and, in their surprise, followed with their eyes the extraordinary man who was walking up their street. The women came out of the gates or stood in the porches of their huts, pointing him out to each other and gazing at him as he passed.
When Nekhludoff was passing the fourth gate, he was stopped by a cart that was coming out, its wheels creaking, loaded high with manure, which was pressed down, and was covered with a mat to sit on. A six-year-old boy, excited by the prospect of a drive, followed the cart. A young peasant, with shoes plaited out of bark on his feet, led the horse out of the yard. A long-legged colt jumped out of the gate; but, seeing Nekhludoff, pressed close to the cart, and scraping its legs against the wheels, jumped forward, past its excited, gently-neighing mother, as she was dragging the heavy load through the gateway. The next horse was led out by a barefooted old man, with protruding shoulder-blades, in a dirty shirt and striped trousers.
When the horses got out on to the hard road, strewn over with bits of dry, grey manure, the old man returned to the gate, and bowed to Nekhludoff.
"You are our ladies' nephew, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am their nephew."
"You've kindly come to look us up, eh?" said the garrulous old man.
"Yes, I have. Well, how are you getting on?"
"How do we get on? We get on very badly," the old man drawled, as if it gave him pleasure.
"Why so badly?" Nekhludoff asked, stepping inside the gate.
"What is our life but the very worst life?" said the old man, following Nekhludoff into that part of the yard which was roofed over.
Nekhludoff stopped under the roof.
"I have got 12 of them there," continued the old man, pointing to two women on the remainder of the manure heap, who stood perspiring with forks in their hands, the kerchiefs tumbling off their heads, with their skirts tucked up, showing the calves of their dirty, bare legs. "Not a month passes but I have to buy six poods [a pood is 36 English pounds] of corn, and where's the money to come from?"
"Have you not got enough corn of your own?"
"My own?" repeated the old man, with a smile of contempt; "why I have only got land for three, and last year we had not enough to last till Christmas."
"What do you do then?"
"What do we do? Why, I hire out as a labourer; and then I borrowed some money from your honour. We spent it all before Lent, and the tax is not paid yet."
"And how much is the tax?"
"Why, it's 17 roubles for my household. Oh, Lord, such a life! One hardly knows one's self how one manages to live it."
"May I go into your hut?" asked Nekhludoff, stepping across the yard over the yellow-brown layers of manure that had been raked up by the forks, and were giving off a strong smell.
"Why not? Come in," said the old man, and stepping quickly with his bare feet over the manure, the liquid oozing between his toes, he passed Nekhludoff and opened the door of the hut.
The women arranged the kerchiefs on their heads and let down their skirts, and stood looking with surprise at the clean gentleman with gold studs to his sleeves who was entering their house. Two little girls, with nothing on but coarse chemises, rushed out of the hut. Nekhludoff took off his hat, and, stooping to get through the low door, entered, through a passage into the dirty, narrow hut, that smelt of sour food, and where much space was taken up by two weaving looms. In the but an old woman was standing by the stove, with the sleeves rolled up over her thin, sinewy brown arms.
"Here is our master come to see us," said the old man.
"I'm sure he's very welcome," said the old woman, kindly.
"I would like to see how you live."
"Well, you see how we live. The hut is coming down, and might kill one any day; but my old man he says it's good enough, and so we live like kings," said the brisk old woman, nervously jerking her head. "I'm getting the dinner; going to feed the workers."
"And what are you going to have for dinner?"
"Our food is very good. First course, bread and kvas; [kvas is a kind of sour, non-intoxicant beer made of rye] second course, kvas and bread," said the old woman, showing her teeth, which were half worn away.
"No," seriously; "let me see what you are going to eat."
"To eat?" said the old man, laughing. "Ours is not a very cunning meal. You just show him, wife."
"Want to see our peasant food? Well, you are an inquisitive gentleman, now I come to look at you. He wants to know everything. Did I not tell you bread and kvas and then we'll have soup. A woman brought us some fish, and that's what the soup is made of, and after that, potatoes."
"Nothing more?"
"What more do you want? We'll also have a little milk," said the old woman, looking towards the door. The door stood open, and the passage outside was full of people--boys, girls, women with babies--thronged together to look at the strange gentleman who wanted to see the peasants' food. The old woman seemed to pride herself on the way she behaved with a gentleman.
"Yes, it's a miserable life, ours; that goes without saying, sir," said the old man. "What are you doing there?" he shouted to those in the passage. "Well, good-bye," said Nekhludoff, feeling ashamed and uneasy, though unable to account for the feeling.
"Thank you kindly for having looked us up," said the old man.
The people in the passage pressed closer together to let Nekhludoff pass, and he went out and continued his way up the street.
Two barefooted boys followed him out of the passage the elder in a shirt that had once been white, the other in a worn and faded pink one. Nekhludoff looked back at them.
"And where are you going now?" asked the boy with the white shirt. Nekhludoff answered: "To Matrona Kharina. Do you know her?" The boy with the pink shirt began laughing at something; but the elder asked, seriously:
"What Matrona is that? Is she old?"
"Yes, she is old."
"Oh--oh," he drawled; "that one; she's at the other end of the village; we'll show you. Yes, Fedka, we'll go with him. Shall we?"
"Yes, but the horses?"
"They'll be all right, I dare say."
Fedka agreed, and all three went up the street.
聂赫留朵夫走出大门，遇见一个农家姑一娘一。她身穿花花绿绿的围裙，耳朵上挂着绒球，迅速地迈动两只厚实的光脚板，穿过车前草和独行菜丛生的牧场，沿着一条踩实的小径跑来。她左胳膊拚命在胸前来回甩动，右胳膊紧搂住一只红一毛一公鸡，把它贴在肚子上，正要回家。那公鸡晃动血红的鸡冠，仿佛很镇定，只转动两只眼珠，时而伸出一只黑腿，时而又缩回去，爪子不时抓住姑一娘一的围裙。姑一娘一走近老爷身边，放慢了脚步。她走到他面前，停住脚步，脑袋往后一昂，向他鞠了个躬。直到他过去了，她才抱着公鸡往前走。聂赫留朵夫下坡来到水井那儿，遇见一个背有点驼的老太婆，身穿一件肮脏的粗布衫，挑着一担沉甸甸的装满水的木桶。老太婆小心翼翼地把两只水桶放下来，也象姑一娘一那样把脑袋往后一昂，对他鞠了个躬。
过了水井就是村子。天气晴朗炎热，上午十点钟就闷热得厉害，空中的浮云只偶尔遮住太一陽一。整条街上都弥漫着浓烈而并不难闻的畜粪味，有的是从大车上山经过的平坦坚实的路上飘来的，但主要还是从各家院子耙松的畜粪堆里冒出来的。聂赫留朵夫正好走过各家大门敞开的院子。有几个农民光着脚板，裤子和布衫上溅满粪汁，赶着大车上坡。他们不时回头望望身材魁伟的老爷，看他头上戴着灰色礼帽，缎子的帽箍在一陽一光下闪闪发亮，手里拄着光亮的银头曲节手杖，每走两步就拿手杖往地上一点，上坡往村子走来。那些从大田里赶着空车回来的农民，坐在驭座上颠个不停，看见街上走着这么一个与众不同的人，都向他脱帽致敬。农妇们走到大门外，或者站在台阶上，对他指指点点，目送他走过。
聂赫留朵夫走到第四户人家的大门口，停住脚步，让一辆吱吱嘎嘎响的大车从院子里驶出来。这辆大车装着畜粪，堆得很高，拍打得很结实，上面铺着一张供人坐的蒲席。一个五六岁的男孩跟在大车后面，兴高采烈地等着坐车。一个年轻的农民脚穿树皮鞋，迈着大步，把马赶出门外。一匹蓝灰色长一腿马驹从大门里窜出来，看见聂赫留朵夫，吓了一跳，身一子贴紧大车，腿蹭着车轮，窜到母马前面。那母马刚把大车拉到门外，低声嘶鸣着，显得心神不宁。后面还有一匹马，由一个一精一神矍铄的瘦老头牵出来。这老头也光着脚板，穿着条纹裤和肮脏的长布衫，隆一起尖尖的肩胛骨。
等马匹上了撒满仿佛烧焦的灰黄色粪块的大路，老头又回到大门口，对聂赫留朵夫鞠了个躬。
“你是我们那两位小一姐的侄儿吧？”
“是的，我是她们的侄儿。”
“欢迎欢迎。你是不是来看看我们哪？”老头兴致勃勃地说。
“对了，对了。那么，你们过得怎么样？”聂赫留朵夫回答，不知道该说什么才好。
“我们过的是什么日子啊！糟得不能再糟了，”饶舌的老头连忙拖长声音说。
“怎么会这样糟呢？”聂赫留朵夫一面走进大门，一面问。
“这算是什么日子啊？糟得不能再糟了，”老头一面说，一面跟着聂赫留朵夫走进院子，来到敞棚下畜粪已经铲掉的地方。
聂赫留朵夫也来到敞棚底下。
“你瞧，我一家老少有十二口呢，”老头继续说，指着两个手拿大叉、头巾滑一下来的女人，她们站在还没有出清的粪堆上，满头大汗，裙摆掖在腰里，露出半截溅满粪汁的腿肚。
“月月都得买进六普特粮食，可是哪来的钱哪？”
“难道自己打的还不够吃吗？”
“自己打的？！”老头冷笑一声说。“我的地只能养活三口人，还吃不到圣诞节。”
“那你们怎么办呢？”
“我们就这么办：一个孩子送出去做长工，又向府上借了点钱。不到大斋节就用光了，可是税还没有缴呢！”
“税要缴多少？”
“我们一户每四个月得缴十七卢布。唉，老天爷，这年头，自己都不知道该怎么对付！”
“可以到你们屋里看一下吗？”聂赫留朵夫说，穿过院子，从那已经铲除畜粪的地方走到用大叉翻过、冒出强烈味儿的红棕色畜粪上。
“当然可以，请吧，”老头说。他迅速迈动脚趾缝里冒出粪汁的两只光脚，跑到聂赫留朵夫前头，给他打开小屋的门。
那两个农妇理好头巾，放下裙摆，露出好奇而恐惧的神情，瞧着袖口钉着金钮子的整洁的老爷走进来。
两个小姑一娘一，身穿粗布衫，从小屋里跑出来。聂赫留朵夫弯下腰，脱一去帽子，进了门廊，接着又走进弥漫着食物酸味的肮脏小屋。小屋里放着两台织布机。炉灶旁站着一个老太婆，卷起袖子，露出两条又黑又瘦、青筋毕露的胳膊。
“瞧，东家少爷看我们来了，”老头说。
“哦，那太高兴了，”老太婆放下卷起的袖子，亲切地说。
“我要看看你们日子过得怎么样，”聂赫留朵夫说。
“我们日子过得怎么样，你就瞧吧。这小房子眼看就要倒了，说不定哪天会压死人。可老头子还说这房子挺不错。你看，这就是我们的天地，”大胆的老太婆神经质地晃动着脑袋，说，“马上就要开饭了。我得喂饱那些干活的人。”
“你们吃些什么呀？
“吃什么？我们的伙食好得很。第一道是面包下克瓦斯①，第二道是克瓦斯下面包，”老太婆露出蛀掉一半的牙齿，笑着说。
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①家庭自制的饮料。
“不，您别开玩笑，让我看看你们今天吃些什么。”
“吃什么？”老头儿笑着说。“我们的伙食并不讲究。你给他看看，老婆子。”
老太婆摇摇头。
“你想看看我们庄稼人的伙食吗？老爷，我看你这人太仔细了。什么事都想知道。我说过，面包下克瓦斯，还有菜汤，昨天婆一娘一们送来几条鱼。喏，这就是菜汤，吃完汤就是土豆。”
“没有别的了？”
“还能有什么呢，最多在汤里加一点牛一奶一，”老太婆笑着说，然后抬起眼睛望着门口。
房门开着，门廊里挤满了人。男孩、女孩、怀抱婴儿的女人都挤在门口，瞅着这个察看庄稼人伙食的怪老爷。老太婆显然因为能同老爷周旋感到很得意。
“是啊，老爷，我们的日子糟得很，真是糟得很，”老头说。“你们跑来干什么！”他对站在门口的人嚷道。
“好吧，再见了，”聂赫留朵夫说，觉得又窘迫又羞愧，但他自己也不知道是什么缘故。
“多谢您来看望我们，”老头说。
门廊里的人互相挤紧，给聂赫留朵夫让路。聂赫留朵夫来到街上，沿着斜坡往上走。两个赤脚的男孩跟着他从门廊里出来：一个年纪大些，穿一件脏得要命的白衬衫；另一个穿一件窄小的褪色粉一红衬衫。聂赫留朵夫回头对他们瞧了瞧。
“你这会儿到哪儿去？”穿白衬衫的男孩问。
“去找玛特廖娜，”他说。“你们认识她吗？”
穿粉一红衬衫的小男孩不知怎的笑起来，可是岁数大些的那个一本正经地反问道：
“哪一个玛特廖娜？是很老的那一个吗？”
“对了，她很老了。”
“哦—哦，”他拖长声音说。“那是谢梅尼哈，她住在村子尽头。我们带你去。走，费吉卡，我们带他去。”
“那么马怎么办？”
“那不要紧！”
费吉卡同意了。他们三人就一起沿着街道往坡上走。