g his teeth:

"Don't take offense at the way I speak. A peasant and a nobleman are
like tar and water. It's hard for them to mix. They jump away from
each other."

"I'm not a lady. I'm a human being," Sofya retorted with a quiet laugh.

"That may be. It's hard for me to believe it; but they say it happens.
They say that a dog was once a wolf. Now I'll hide these books."

Ignaty and Yakob walked up to him, and both stretched out their hands.

"Give us some."

"Are they all the same?" Rybin asked of Sofya.

"No, they're different. There's a newspaper here, too."

"Oh!"

The three men quickly walked into the shack.

"The peasant is on fire," said the mother in a low voice, looking after
Rybin thoughtfully.

"Yes," answered Sofya. "I've never seen such a face as his--such a
martyrlike face. Let's go inside, too. I want to look at them."

When the women reached the door they found the men already engrossed in
the newspapers. Ignaty was sitting on the board, the newspaper spread
on his knees, and his fingers run through his hair. He raised his
head, gave the women a rapid glance, and bent over his paper again.
Rybin was standing to let the ray of sun that penetrated a chink in the
roof fall on his paper. He moved his lips as he read. Ignaty read
kneeling, with his breast against the edge of the board.

Sofya felt the eagerness of the men for the word of truth. Her face
brightened with a joyful smile. Walking carefully over to a corner,
she sat down next to the mother, her arm on the mother's shoulder, and
gazed about silently.

"Uncle Mikhail, they're rough on us peasants," muttered Yakob without
turning.

Rybin looked around at him, and answered with a smile:

"For love of us. He who loves does not insult, no matter what he says."

Ignaty drew a deep breath, raised his head, smiled satirically, and
closing his eyes said with a scowl:

"Here it says: 'The peasant has ceased to be a human being.' Of
course he has." Over his simple, open face glided a shadow of offense.
"Well, try to wear my skin for a day or so, and turn around in it, and
then we'll see what you'll be like, you wiseacre, you!"

"I'm going to lie down," said the mother quietly. "I got tired, after
all. My head is going around. And you?" she asked Sofya.

"I don't want to."

The mother stretched herself on the board and soon fell asleep. Sofya
sat over her looking at the people reading. When the bees buzzed about