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Levin took the scythe, and began trying it. As they finished

their rows, the mowers, hot and good-humored, came out into the

road one after another, and, laughing a little, greeted the

master. They all stared at him, but no one made any remark, till

a tall old man, with a wrinkled, beardless face, wearing a short

sheepskin jacket, came out into the road and accosted him.

"Look'ee now, master, once take hold of the rope there's no

letting it go!" he said, and Levin heard smothered laughter among

the mowers.

"I'll try not to let it go," he said, taking his stand behind

Tit, and waiting for the time to begin.

"Mind'ee," repeated the old man.

Tit made room, and Levin started behind him. The grass was short

close to the road, and Levin, who had not done any mowing for a

long while, and was disconcerted by the eyes fastened upon him,

cut badly for the first moments, though he swung his scythe

vigorously. Behind him he heard voices: