“I think as you do, and I count it a sin to possess land, so I wish to give it away,” said Nekhludoff.

“Well, that’s a good thing,” said the old man, with curls like Angelo’s “Moses,” evidently thinking that Nekhludoff meant to let the land.

“I have come here because I no longer wish to possess any land, and now we must consider the best way of dividing it.”

“Just give it to the peasants, that’s all,” said the cross, toothless old man.

Nekhludoff was abashed for a moment, feeling a suspicion of his not being honest in these words, but he instantly recovered, and made use of the remark, in order to express what was in his mind, in reply.

“I should be glad to give it them,” he said, “but to whom, and how?  To which of the peasants?  Why, to your commune, and not to that of Deminsk.” (That was the name of a neighbouring village with very little land.) All were silent.  Then the ex-soldier said, “Just so.”

“Now, then, tell me how would you divide the land among the peasants if you had to do it?” said Nekhludoff.

“We should divide it up equally, so much for every man,” said the oven-builder, quickly raising and lowering his brows.

“How else?  Of course, so much per man,” said the good natured lame man with the white strips of linen round his legs.

Every one confirmed this statement, considering it satisfactory.

“So much per man?  Then are the servants attached to the house also to have a share?” Nekhludoff asked.

“Oh, no,” said the ex-soldier, trying to appear bold and merry.  But the tall, reasonable man would not agree with him.

“If one is to divide, all must share alike,” he said, in his deep bass, after a little consideration.

“It can’t be done,” said Nekhludoff, who had already prepared his reply.  “If all are to share alike, then those who do not work themselves—­do not plough—­will sell their shares to the rich.  The rich will again get at the land.  Those who live by working the land will multiply, and land will again be scarce.  Then the rich will again get those who need land into their power.”

“Just so,” quickly said the ex-soldier.

“Forbid to sell the land; let only him who ploughs it have it,” angrily interrupted the oven-builder.

To this Nekhludoff replied that it was impossible to know who was ploughing for himself and who for another.

The tall, reasonable man proposed that an arrangement be made so that they should all plough communally, and those who ploughed should get the produce and those who did not should get nothing.

To this communistic project Nekhludoff had also an answer ready.  He said that for such an arrangement it would be necessary that all should have ploughs, and that all the horses should be alike, so that none should be left behind, and that ploughs and horses and all the implements would have to be communal property, and that in order to get that, all the people would have to agree.