“If it is so easy, go pass your examinations and become a priest at once,” replied the countess.

“I don’t know enough for that.”

“Then go hire yourself out as a clown.  You are always making bad jokes.”

The man was subdued.  The count took no part in this conversation, and looked somewhat disturbed when the other men joined disagreeably in the laugh against their comrade.  He turned the subject.

“Look at the oldest of these men,” he said to us in English.  “He has lost the first joint of all the fingers on one hand from frost.”

He was a weak-looking, withered little man, but when they began to mow again, at the count’s suggestion, he grasped his scythe as well as any of them.  The scythes were short, thick, straight, looked very heavy, and were set on very long, straight handles, so that it was not necessary to stoop in mowing.

We watched the party for a while.  The count made good progress over the uneven ground and thin grass, as though he were used to the work which he has described so inimitably in “Anna Karenin.” (Another reminder of this book is the old nurse of Levin, who still lives on the place, has charge of the dogs because she is fond of animals, and carries her mania to the extent of feeding and petting the black beetles.  The grave of Karl Ivanovitch, the tutor in “Childhood, Boyhood, Youth,” which lies in the cemetery a mile or two distant, is another memento of his writings.) As we strolled back to the house, we paused to look at the long white stables, the thatched granary with walls of wattled tree boughs, and other farm buildings.  In the space between the house and the dining-table we found the children, with their cousins, the French tutor, and the English governess, engaged in a game of ball called wapta, which involves much running and some skill.

To this table the samovar was brought about half past seven, and the early tea, the children’s tea, was served at twilight in the open air heavy with the perfume of the linden-trees.  Late tea was always served in the house, in the large hall, accompanied by various viands, and by wild strawberries fetched by the peasant children.

That evening the count talked to me chiefly about the pamphlets on the Hopedale community and the peace doctrines advocated by Adin Ballou, which had been sent to him shortly before from America.  He had then learned for the first time that his principles in that direction had been anticipated, and he seemed to be genuinely gratified to know that this was the case.  He prophesied that this movement in favor of non-resistance would attract much more attention in the future than it has attracted in the past.  The fate of Mr. Ballou’s community did not seem to shake his faith.