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"I must have physical exercise, or my temper'll certainly be

ruined," he thought, and he determined he would go mowing,

however awkward he might feel about it with his brother or the

peasants.

Towards evening Konstantin Levin went to his counting house, gave

directions as to the work to be done, and sent about the village

to summon the mowers for the morrow, to cut the hay in Kalinov

meadow, the largest and best of his grass lands.

"And send my scythe, please, to Tit, for him to set it, and bring

it round tomorrow. I shall maybe do some mowing myself too," he

said, trying not to be embarrassed.

The bailiff smiled and said: "Yes, sir."

At tea the same evening Levin said to his brother:

"I fancy the fine weather will last. Tomorrow I shall start

mowing."

"I'm so fond of that form of field labor," said Sergey

Ivanovitch.

"I'm awfully fond of it. I sometimes mow myself with the

peasants, and tomorrow I want to try mowing the whole day."