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Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, Part 8. Chapter 11.

Part 8. Chapter 11.

The day on which Sergey Ivanovitch came to Pokrovskoe was one of Levin's most painful days. It was the very busiest working time, when all the peasantry show an extraordinary intensity of self-sacrifice in labor, such as is never shown in any other conditions of life, and would be highly esteemed if the men who showed these qualities themselves thought highly of them, and if it were not repeated every year, and if the results of this intense labor were not so simple.

To reap and bind the rye and oats and to carry it, to mow the meadows, turn over the fallows, thrash the seed and sow the winter corn—all this seems so simple and ordinary; but to succeed in getting through it all everyone in the village, from the old man to the young child, must toil incessantly for three or four weeks, three times as hard as usual, living on rye-beer, onions, and black bread, thrashing and carrying the sheaves at night, and not giving more than two or three hours in the twenty-four to sleep. And every year this is done all over Russia.

Having lived the greater part of his life in the country and in the closest relations with the peasants, Levin always felt in this busy time that he was infected by this general quickening of energy in the people.

In the early morning he rode over to the first sowing of the rye, and to the oats, which were being carried to the stacks, and returning home at the time his wife and sister-in-law were getting up, he drank coffee with them and walked to the farm, where a new thrashing machine was to be set working to get ready the seed-corn.

He was standing in the cool granary, still fragrant with the leaves of the hazel branches interlaced on the freshly peeled aspen beams of the new thatch roof. He gazed through the open door in which the dry bitter dust of the thrashing whirled and played, at the grass of the thrashing floor in the sunlight and the fresh straw that had been brought in from the barn, then at the speckly-headed, white-breasted swallows that flew chirping in under the roof and, fluttering their wings, settled in the crevices of the doorway, then at the peasants bustling in the dark, dusty barn, and he thought strange thoughts.

"Why is it all being done?" he thought. "Why am I standing here, making them work? What are they all so busy for, trying to show their zeal before me? What is that old Matrona, my old friend, toiling for? (I doctored her, when the beam fell on her in the fire)" he thought, looking at a thin old woman who was raking up the grain, moving painfully with her bare, sun-blackened feet over the uneven, rough floor. "Then she recovered, but today or tomorrow or in ten years she won't; they'll bury her, and nothing will be left either of her or of that smart girl in the red jacket, who with that skillful, soft action shakes the ears out of their husks. They'll bury her and this piebald horse, and very soon too," he thought, gazing at the heavily moving, panting horse that kept walking up the wheel that turned under him. "And they will bury her and Fyodor the thrasher with his curly beard full of chaff and his shirt torn on his white shoulders—they will bury him. He's untying the sheaves, and giving orders, and shouting to the women, and quickly setting straight the strap on the moving wheel. And what's more, it's not them alone—me they'll bury too, and nothing will be left. What for?" He thought this, and at the same time looked at his watch to reckon how much they thrashed in an hour. He wanted to know this so as to judge by it the task to set for the day.

"It'll soon be one, and they're only beginning the third sheaf," thought Levin. He went up to the man that was feeding the machine, and shouting over the roar of the machine he told him to put it in more slowly. "You put in too much at a time, Fyodor. Do you see—it gets choked, that's why it isn't getting on. Do it evenly." Fyodor, black with the dust that clung to his moist face, shouted something in response, but still went on doing it as Levin did not want him to.

Levin, going up to the machine, moved Fyodor aside, and began feeding the corn in himself. Working on till the peasants' dinner hour, which was not long in coming, he went out of the barn with Fyodor and fell into talk with him, stopping beside a neat yellow sheaf of rye laid on the thrashing floor for seed. Fyodor came from a village at some distance from the one in which Levin had once allotted land to his cooperative association. Now it had been let to a former house porter.

Levin talked to Fyodor about this land and asked whether Platon, a well-to-do peasant of good character belonging to the same village, would not take the land for the coming year.

"It's a high rent; it wouldn't pay Platon, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," answered the peasant, picking the ears off his sweat-drenched shirt. "But how does Kirillov make it pay?" "Mituh!" (so the peasant called the house porter, in a tone of contempt), "you may be sure he'll make it pay, Konstantin Dmitrievitch! He'll get his share, however he has to squeeze to get it! He's no mercy on a Christian. But Uncle Fokanitch" (so he called the old peasant Platon), "do you suppose he'd flay the skin off a man? Where there's debt, he'll let anyone off. And he'll not wring the last penny out. He's a man too." "But why will he let anyone off?" "Oh, well, of course, folks are different. One man lives for his own wants and nothing else, like Mituh, he only thinks of filling his belly, but Fokanitch is a righteous man. He lives for his soul. He does not forget God." "How thinks of God? How does he live for his soul?" Levin almost shouted.

"Why, to be sure, in truth, in God's way. Folks are different. Take you now, you wouldn't wrong a man…." "Yes, yes, good-bye!" said Levin, breathless with excitement, and turning round he took his stick and walked quickly away towards home. At the peasant's words that Fokanitch lived for his soul, in truth, in God's way, undefined but significant ideas seemed to burst out as though they had been locked up, and all striving towards one goal, they thronged whirling through his head, blinding him with their light.

Part 8. Chapter 11.

The day on which Sergey Ivanovitch came to Pokrovskoe was one of Levin's most painful days. It was the very busiest working time, when all the peasantry show an extraordinary intensity of self-sacrifice in labor, such as is never shown in any other conditions of life, and would be highly esteemed if the men who showed these qualities themselves thought highly of them, and if it were not repeated every year, and if the results of this intense labor were not so simple.

To reap and bind the rye and oats and to carry it, to mow the meadows, turn over the fallows, thrash the seed and sow the winter corn—all this seems so simple and ordinary; but to succeed in getting through it all everyone in the village, from the old man to the young child, must toil incessantly for three or four weeks, three times as hard as usual, living on rye-beer, onions, and black bread, thrashing and carrying the sheaves at night, and not giving more than two or three hours in the twenty-four to sleep. Récolter et lier le seigle et l'avoine et les transporter, tondre les prairies, retourner les jachères, battre la graine et semer le maïs d'hiver, tout cela semble si simple et ordinaire; mais pour réussir à traverser tout cela, tout le monde dans le village, du vieillard au jeune enfant, doit travailler sans relâche pendant trois ou quatre semaines, trois fois plus que d'habitude, vivant de bière de seigle, d'oignons et de pain noir, battant et portant les gerbes la nuit, et ne donnant pas plus de deux ou trois heures dans le vingt-quatre pour dormir. And every year this is done all over Russia.

Having lived the greater part of his life in the country and in the closest relations with the peasants, Levin always felt in this busy time that he was infected by this general quickening of energy in the people.

In the early morning he rode over to the first sowing of the rye, and to the oats, which were being carried to the stacks, and returning home at the time his wife and sister-in-law were getting up, he drank coffee with them and walked to the farm, where a new thrashing machine was to be set working to get ready the seed-corn. Au petit matin, il est allé au premier semis du seigle, et à l'avoine, qui étaient transportés vers les piles, et de retour à la maison au moment où sa femme et sa belle-sœur se levaient, il a bu du café avec et se dirigea vers la ferme, où une nouvelle machine à battre devait être installée pour préparer le maïs de semence.

He was standing in the cool granary, still fragrant with the leaves of the hazel branches interlaced on the freshly peeled aspen beams of the new thatch roof. Il se tenait dans le grenier frais, toujours parfumé avec les feuilles des branches de noisetier entrelacées sur les poutres de tremble fraîchement pelées du nouveau toit de chaume. Jis stovėjo vėsioje klėtyje, vis dar kvepiantis lazdyno šakų lapais, supintais ant ką tik nuluptų naujojo šiaudinio stogo drebulės sijų. He gazed through the open door in which the dry bitter dust of the thrashing whirled and played, at the grass of the thrashing floor in the sunlight and the fresh straw that had been brought in from the barn, then at the speckly-headed, white-breasted swallows that flew chirping in under the roof and, fluttering their wings, settled in the crevices of the doorway, then at the peasants bustling in the dark, dusty barn, and he thought strange thoughts. Il regarda à travers la porte ouverte dans laquelle tournoyait et jouait la poussière sèche et amère de la raclée, l'herbe du sol battant à la lumière du soleil et la paille fraîche qui avait été apportée de la grange, puis à la tête tachetée, blanche. - des hirondelles à poitrine qui volaient en gazouillant sous le toit et, battant des ailes, s'installèrent dans les crevasses de la porte, puis chez les paysans qui s'affairaient dans la grange sombre et poussiéreuse, et il pensa d'étranges pensées.

"Why is it all being done?" "Pourquoi est-ce que tout est fait?" he thought. "Why am I standing here, making them work? What are they all so busy for, trying to show their zeal before me? What is that old Matrona, my old friend, toiling for? (I doctored her, when the beam fell on her in the fire)" he thought, looking at a thin old woman who was raking up the grain, moving painfully with her bare, sun-blackened feet over the uneven, rough floor. (Je l'ai trafiquée, quand la poutre est tombée sur elle dans le feu) "pensa-t-il en regardant une vieille femme maigre qui ratissait le grain, se déplaçant douloureusement avec ses pieds nus et noircis par le soleil sur le sol irrégulier et rugueux. "Then she recovered, but today or tomorrow or in ten years she won't; they'll bury her, and nothing will be left either of her or of that smart girl in the red jacket, who with that skillful, soft action shakes the ears out of their husks. "Puis elle a récupéré, mais aujourd'hui ou demain ou dans dix ans elle ne le fera pas; ils l'enterreront, et il ne restera rien d'elle ni de cette fille intelligente en veste rouge, qui, avec cette action adroite et douce, secoue les oreilles hors de leur enveloppe. "Tada ji pasveiko, bet šiandien ar rytoj, ar po dešimties metų ji to nedarys; jie palaidos ją, ir nieko neliks nei iš jos, nei iš tos protingos merginos su raudonu švarku, kuri tokiu meistrišku, švelniu veiksmu sukrečia ausys iš jų lukštų. They'll bury her and this piebald horse, and very soon too," he thought, gazing at the heavily moving, panting horse that kept walking up the wheel that turned under him. Ils vont l'enterrer elle et ce cheval pie, et très bientôt aussi, »pensa-t-il, regardant le cheval haletant et très mouvant qui ne cessait de monter sur la roue qui tournait sous lui. "And they will bury her and Fyodor the thrasher with his curly beard full of chaff and his shirt torn on his white shoulders—they will bury him. «Et ils l'enterreront ainsi que Fyodor le thrasher avec sa barbe frisée pleine de paillettes et sa chemise déchirée sur ses épaules blanches - ils l'enterreront. He's untying the sheaves, and giving orders, and shouting to the women, and quickly setting straight the strap on the moving wheel. Il délie les poulies, donne des ordres, crie aux femmes, et remet rapidement la sangle sur la roue en mouvement. Jis atriša pėdas, duoda nurodymus, šaukia moterims ir greitai tiesia diržą ant judančio rato. And what's more, it's not them alone—me they'll bury too, and nothing will be left. What for?" He thought this, and at the same time looked at his watch to reckon how much they thrashed in an hour. Il pensa cela, et en même temps regarda sa montre pour compter combien ils se débattaient en une heure. He wanted to know this so as to judge by it the task to set for the day.

"It'll soon be one, and they're only beginning the third sheaf," thought Levin. "Ce sera bientôt un, et ils ne font que commencer la troisième gerbe," pensa Levin. He went up to the man that was feeding the machine, and shouting over the roar of the machine he told him to put it in more slowly. Il s'approcha de l'homme qui alimentait la machine, et criant par-dessus le rugissement de la machine, il lui dit de la mettre plus lentement. "You put in too much at a time, Fyodor. Do you see—it gets choked, that's why it isn't getting on. Voyez-vous - ça s'étrangle, c'est pourquoi ça ne marche pas. Do it evenly." Faites-le uniformément. " Fyodor, black with the dust that clung to his moist face, shouted something in response, but still went on doing it as Levin did not want him to.

Levin, going up to the machine, moved Fyodor aside, and began feeding the corn in himself. Working on till the peasants' dinner hour, which was not long in coming, he went out of the barn with Fyodor and fell into talk with him, stopping beside a neat yellow sheaf of rye laid on the thrashing floor for seed. Travaillant jusqu'à l'heure du dîner des paysans, qui ne tarda pas à venir, il sortit de la grange avec Fyodor et s'entretint avec lui, s'arrêtant à côté d'une belle gerbe de seigle jaune posée sur le sol pour chercher des graines. Fyodor came from a village at some distance from the one in which Levin had once allotted land to his cooperative association. Fyodor venait d'un village assez éloigné de celui dans lequel Levin avait autrefois attribué des terres à son association coopérative. Now it had been let to a former house porter. Maintenant, il avait été loué à un ancien concierge.

Levin talked to Fyodor about this land and asked whether Platon, a well-to-do peasant of good character belonging to the same village, would not take the land for the coming year. Levin a parlé à Fyodor de cette terre et a demandé si Platon, un paysan aisé de bon caractère appartenant au même village, ne prendrait pas la terre pour l'année à venir. Levinas kalbėjosi su Fiodoru apie šį kraštą ir paklausė, ar Platonas, gero charakterio valstietis, priklausantis tam pačiam kaimui, nepaims žemės ateinančiais metais.

"It's a high rent; it wouldn't pay Platon, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," answered the peasant, picking the ears off his sweat-drenched shirt. «C'est un loyer élevé; il ne paierait pas Platon, Konstantin Dmitrievitch,» répondit le paysan en ramassant les oreilles de sa chemise trempée de sueur. "But how does Kirillov make it pay?" "Mais comment Kirillov le fait-il payer?" "Mituh!" (so the peasant called the house porter, in a tone of contempt), "you may be sure he'll make it pay, Konstantin Dmitrievitch! (taip valstietis paniekos tonu vadino namų nešėją), „galite būti tikras, kad jis privers tai sumokėti, Konstantinai Dmitrijevič! He'll get his share, however he has to squeeze to get it! Il aura sa part, mais il doit presser pour l'obtenir! He's no mercy on a Christian. Il n'a aucune pitié pour un chrétien. But Uncle Fokanitch" (so he called the old peasant Platon), "do you suppose he'd flay the skin off a man? Mais l'oncle Fokanitch »(ainsi il appelait le vieux paysan Platon),« pensez-vous qu'il écorcherait la peau d'un homme? Where there's debt, he'll let anyone off. Là où il y a de la dette, il laisse n'importe qui partir And he'll not wring the last penny out. Et il n'essorera pas le dernier centime. He's a man too." "But why will he let anyone off?" - Bet kodėl jis ką nors išleis? "Oh, well, of course, folks are different. One man lives for his own wants and nothing else, like Mituh, he only thinks of filling his belly, but Fokanitch is a righteous man. He lives for his soul. He does not forget God." "How thinks of God? How does he live for his soul?" Levin almost shouted.

"Why, to be sure, in truth, in God's way. Folks are different. Take you now, you wouldn't wrong a man…." Paimk tave dabar, nepakenktum vyrui ... " "Yes, yes, good-bye!" said Levin, breathless with excitement, and turning round he took his stick and walked quickly away towards home. At the peasant's words that Fokanitch lived for his soul, in truth, in God's way, undefined but significant ideas seemed to burst out as though they had been locked up, and all striving towards one goal, they thronged whirling through his head, blinding him with their light. Aux paroles du paysan que Fokanitch vivait pour son âme, en vérité, à la manière de Dieu, des idées indéfinies mais significatives semblaient éclater comme si elles avaient été enfermées, et toutes s'efforçant d'atteindre un seul but, elles se pressaient dans sa tête, l'aveuglant. avec leur lumière.