We dined at a long table under the trees at a little distance from the house.  The breeze sifted the tiny papery birch seeds into our soup and water.  Clouds rolled up, and at every threat of the sky we grasped our plates, prepared to make a dash for the house.

The count, who had been mowing, appeared at dinner in a grayish blouse and trousers, and a soft white linen cap.  He looked even more weather-beaten in complexion than he had in Moscow during the winter, if that were possible.  His broad shoulders seemed to preserve in their enhanced stoop a memory of recent toil.  His manner, a combination of gentle simplicity, awkward half-conquered consciousness, and half-discarded polish, was as cordial as ever.  His piercing gray-green-blue eyes had lost none of their almost saturnine and withal melancholy expression.  His sons were clad in the pretty blouse suits of coarse gray linen which are so common in Russia in the summer, and white linen caps.

After dinner, on that first evening, the countess invited us to go to the fields and see her husband at work.  He had not observed the good old recipe, “After dinner, rest awhile,” but had set off again immediately, and we had been eager to follow him.  We hunted for him through several meadows, and finally came upon him in a sloping orchard lot, seated under the trees, in a violent perspiration.  He had wasted no time, evidently.  He was resting, and chatting with half a dozen peasants of assorted ages.  It appeared that he had made a toilet for dinner, since he now wore a blue blouse faded with frequent washing, and ornamented with new dark blue patches on the shoulders.  It was the same blouse with which Repin’s portrait of him engaged in plowing had already made us familiar.

We talked with the peasants.  They remained seated, and gave no greeting.  I do not think they would have done so on any other estate in Russia.  It is not that the count has inspired his humble neighbors with a higher personal sense of independence and the equality of man; all Russian peasants are pretty well advanced along that path already, and they possess a natural dignity which prevents their asserting themselves in an unpleasant manner except in rare cases.  When they rise or salute, it is out of politeness, and with no more servility than the same act implies in an officer of the Guards in presence of a Court dame.  The omission on this occasion interested me as significant.

The conversation turned upon the marriage of one of the younger men, which was to come off in a neighboring village two days later, at the conclusion of the fast of Saint Peter and Saint Paul.  A middle-aged peasant took up the subject in a rather unpleasant and not very respectful manner, saying that he saw no use for priests, who had everything provided for them (na gatovayu ruku), and charged so high for baptizing and marrying.

“They demand seven rubles for marrying this fellow,” said he.  “I’ll do it for a ruble, and be glad to.”