h.

We dined at a long table under the trees at a little distance from the
house. The breeze sifted the tiny papery birch seeds into our soup and
water. Clouds rolled up, and at every threat of the sky we grasped our
plates, prepared to make a dash for the house.

The count, who had been mowing, appeared at dinner in a grayish blouse
and trousers, and a soft white linen cap. He looked even more
weather-beaten in complexion than he had in Moscow during the winter, if
that were possible. His broad shoulders seemed to preserve in their
enhanced stoop a memory of recent toil. His manner, a combination of
gentle simplicity, awkward half-conquered consciousness, and
half-discarded polish, was as cordial as ever. His piercing
gray-green-blue eyes had lost none of their almost saturnine and withal
melancholy expression. His sons were clad in the pretty blouse suits of
coarse gray linen which are so common in Russia in the summer, and white
linen caps.

After dinner, on that first evening, the countess invited us to go to
the fields and see her husband at work. He had not observed the good old
recipe, "After dinner, rest awhile," but had set off again immediately,
and we had been eager to follow him. We hunted for him through several
meadows, and finally came upon him in a sloping orchard lot, seated
under the trees, in a violent perspiration. He had wasted no time,
evidently. He was resting, and chatting with half a dozen peasants of
assorted ages. It appeared that he had made a toilet for dinner, since
he now wore a blue blouse faded with frequent washing, and ornamented
with new dark blue patches on the shoulders. It was the same blouse with
which Repin's portrait of him engaged in plowing had already made us
familiar.

We talked with the peasants. They remained seated, and gave no greeting.
I do not think they would have done so on any other estate in Russia. It
is not that the count has inspired his humble neighbors with a higher
personal sense of independence and the equality of man; all Russian
peasants are pretty well advanced along that path already, and they
possess a natural dignity which prevents their asserting themselves in
an unpleasant manner except in rare cases. When they rise or salute, it
is out of politeness, and with no more servility than the same act
implies in an officer of the Guards in presence of a Court dame. The
omission on this occasion interested me as significant.

The conversation turned u