urilovka called Stepan, a handsome, dark
fellow with a thick black beard, who looked very strong. He did not
like the miller's work, and looked upon it as dreary and unprofitable,
and only lived at the mill in order not to live at home. He was a
leather-worker, and was always surrounded by a pleasant smell of
tar and leather. He was not fond of talking, he was listless and
sluggish, and was always sitting in the doorway or on the river
bank, humming "oo-loo-loo." His wife and mother-in-law, both
white-faced, languid, and meek, used sometimes to come from Kurilovka
to see him; they made low bows to him and addressed him formally,
"Stepan Petrovitch," while he went on sitting on the river bank,
softly humming "oo-loo-loo," without responding by word or movement
to their bows. One hour and then a second would pass in silence.
His mother-in-law and wife, after whispering together, would get
up and gaze at him for some time, expecting him to look round; then
they would make a low bow, and in sugary, chanting voices, say:

"Good-bye, Stepan Petrovitch!"

And they would go away. After that Stepan, picking up the parcel
they had left, containing cracknels or a shirt, would heave a sigh
and say, winking in their direction:

"The female sex!"

The mill with two sets of millstones worked day and night. I used
to help Stepan; I liked the work, and when he went off I was glad
to stay and take his place.

XI

After bright warm weather came a spell of wet; all May it rained
and was cold. The sound of the millwheels and of the rain disposed
one to indolence and slumber. The floor trembled, there was a smell
of flour, and that, too, induced drowsiness. My wife in a short
fur-lined jacket, and in men's high golosh boots, would make her
appearance twice a day, and she always said the same thing:

"And this is called summer! Worse than it was in October!"

We used to have tea and make the porridge together, or we would sit
for hours at a stretch without speaking, waiting for the rain to
stop. Once, when Stepan had gone off to the fair, Masha stayed all
night at the mill. When we got up we could not tell what time it
was, as the rainclouds covered the whole sky; but sleepy cocks were
crowing at Dubetchnya, and landrails were calling in the meadows;
it was still very, very early. . . . My wife and I went down to the
millpond and drew out the net which Stepan had thrown in over night
in our presence. A big pike was struggling in it