s were calling the
inhabitants to religious services, and while every one else was about to
enjoy a holiday, the unfortunate serfs started for the field to plough.
Michael arose rather late and took a walk about the farm. The domestic
servants were through with their work and had dressed themselves for the
day, while Michael's wife and their widowed daughter (who was visiting
them, as was her custom on holidays) had been to church and returned. A
steaming samovar awaited them, and they began to drink tea with Michael,
who, after lighting his pipe, called the elder to him.

"Well," said the superintendent, "have you ordered the moujiks to plough
to-day?"

"Yes, sir, I did," was the reply.

"Have they all gone to the field?"

"Yes, sir; all of them. I directed them myself where to begin."

"That is all very well. You gave the orders, but are they ploughing?
Go at once and see, and you may tell them that I shall be there after
dinner. I shall expect to find one and a half acres done for every
two ploughs, and the work must be well done; otherwise they shall be
severely punished, notwithstanding the holiday."

"I hear, sir, and obey."

The elder started to go, but Michael called him back. After hesitating
for some time, as if he felt very uneasy, he said:

"By the way, listen to what those scoundrels say about me. Doubtless
some of them will curse me, and I want you to report the exact words. I
know what villains they are. They don't find work at all pleasant. They
would rather lie down all day and do nothing. They would like to eat and
drink and make merry on holidays, but they forget that if the ploughing
is not done it will soon be too late. So you go and listen to what is
said, and tell it to me in detail. Go at once."

"I hear, sir, and obey."

Turning his back and mounting his horse, the elder was soon at the field
where the serfs were hard at work.

It happened that Michael's wife, a very good-hearted woman, overheard
the conversation which her husband had just been holding with the elder.
Approaching him, she said:

"My good friend, Mishinka [diminutive of Michael], I beg of you to
consider the importance and solemnity of this holy-day. Do not sin, for
Christ's sake. Let the poor moujiks go home."

Michael laughed, but made no reply to his wife's humane request. Finally
he said to her:

"You've not been whipped for a very long time, and now you have become
bold enough to interfere in affairs that a