leased by Stiepan, a Kurilovka peasant; handsome, swarthy, with a black
beard--an athletic appearance. He did not care for mill work and thought
it tiresome and unprofitable, and he only lived at the mill to escape
from home. He was a saddler and always smelled of tan and leather. He
did not like talking, was slow and immovable, and used to hum
"U-lu-lu-lu," sitting on the bank or in the doorway of the mill.
Sometimes his wife and mother-in-law used to come from Kurilovka to see
him; they were both fair, languid, soft, and they used to bow to him
humbly and call him Stiepan Petrovich. And he would not answer their
greeting with a word or a sign, but would turn where he sat on the bank
and hum quietly: "U-lu-lu-lu." There would be a silence for an hour or
two. His mother-in-law and his wife would whisper to each other, get up
and look expectantly at him for some time, waiting for him to look at
them, and then they would bow humbly and say in sweet, soft voices:

"Good-bye, Stiepan Petrovich."

And they would go away. After that, Stiepan would put away the bundle of
cracknels or the shirt they had left for him and sigh and give a wink in
their direction and say:

"The female sex!"

The mill was worked with both wheels day and night. I used to help
Stiepan, I liked it, and when he went away I was glad to take his place.

XI

After a spell of warm bright weather we had a season of bad roads. It
rained and was cold all through May. The grinding of the millstones and
the drip of the rain induced idleness and sleep. The floor shook, the
whole place smelled of flour, and this too made one drowsy. My wife in a
short fur coat and high rubber boots used to appear twice a day and she
always said the same thing:

"Call this summer! It is worse than October!"

We used to have tea together and cook porridge, or sit together for
hours in silence thinking the rain would never stop. Once when Stiepan
went away to a fair, Masha stayed the night in the mill. When we got up
we could not tell what time it was for the sky was overcast; the sleepy
cocks at Dubechnia were crowing, and the corncrakes were trilling in the
meadow; it was very, very early.... My wife and I walked down to the
pool and drew up the bow-net that Stiepan had put out in our presence
the day before. There was one large perch in it and a crayfish angrily
stretched out his claws.

"Let them go," said Masha. "Let them be happy too."

Because we got up very earl