, he heard the luncheon bell ring.

Thanks to the efforts of upwards of ten human beings--counting
laundresses, gardeners, cooks, kitchen-maids, butlers and footmen--the
table was sumptuously laid for eight, with silver waterjugs, decanters,
kvass, wine, mineral waters, cut glass, and fine table linen, while
two men-servants were continually hurrying to and fro, bringing in and
serving, and then clearing away the hors d'oeuvre and the various hot
and cold courses.

The hostess talked incessantly about everything that she had been doing,
thinking, and saying; and she evidently considered that everything that
she thought, said, or did was perfect, and that it would please every
one except those who were fools. Volgin felt and knew that everything
she said was stupid, but it would never do to let it be seen, and so he
kept up the conversation. Theodorite was glum and silent; the student
occasionally exchanged a few words with the widow. Now and again there
was a pause in the conversation, and then Theodorite interposed, and
every one became miserably depressed. At such moments the hostess
ordered some dish that had not been served, and the footman hurried off
to the kitchen, or to the housekeeper, and hurried back again. Nobody
felt inclined either to talk or to eat. But they all forced themselves
to eat and to talk, and so luncheon went on.

The peasant who had been begging because his horse had died was named
Mitri Sudarikov. He had spent the whole day before he went to the squire
over his dead horse. First of all he went to the knacker, Sanin, who
lived in a village near. The knacker was out, but he waited for him, and
it was dinner-time when he had finished bargaining over the price of the
skin. Then he borrowed a neighbour's horse to take his own to a field
to be buried, as it is forbidden to bury dead animals near a village.
Adrian would not lend his horse because he was getting in his potatoes,
but Stephen took pity on Mitri and gave way to his persuasion. He even
lent a hand in lifting the dead horse into the cart. Mitri tore off the
shoes from the forelegs and gave them to his wife. One was broken, but
the other one was whole. While he was digging the grave with a spade
which was very blunt, the knacker appeared and took off the skin; and
the carcass was then thrown into the hole and covered up. Mitri felt
tired, and went into Matrena's hut, where he drank half a bottle of
vodka with Sanin to console himself. Th