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Next morning Konstantin Levin got up earlier than usual, but he

was detained giving directions on the farm, and when he reached

the mowing grass the mowers were already at their second row.

From the uplands he could get a view of the shaded cut part of

the meadow below, with its grayish ridges of cut grass, and the

black heaps of coats, taken off by the mowers at the place from

which they had started cutting.

Gradually, as he rode towards the meadow, the peasants came into

sight, some in coats, some in their shirts mowing, one behind

another in a long string, swinging their scythes differently. He

counted forty-two of them.