"Well," he said, "have you sent out the peasants to plough?" "Yes, Mikhaíl Seménovich." "Well, did all of them go?" "All. I placed them myself." "Of course, you have placed them,--but are they ploughing? Go and see, and tell them that I will be there in the afternoon, and by that time they are to plough a desyatína to each two ploughs, and plough it well. If I find any unploughed strips, I will pay no attention to the holiday." "Yes, sir." The elder started to go out, but Mikhaíl Seménovich called him back. He called him back, but he hesitated, for he wanted to say something and did not know how to say it. He hesitated awhile, and then he said: "Listen to what those robbers are saying about me. Tell me everything,--who is scolding me, or whatever they may be saying. I know those robbers: they do not like to work; all they want to do is to lie on their sides and loaf. To eat and be idle, that is what they like; they do not consider that if the time of ploughing is missed it will be too late. So listen to what they have to say, and let me know everything you may hear! Go, but be sure you tell me everything and keep nothing from me!" The elder turned around and left the room. He mounted his horse and rode into the field to the peasants. The clerk's wife had heard her husband's talk with the elder, and she came in and began to implore him. The wife of the clerk was a peaceable woman, and she had a good heart. Whenever she could, she calmed her husband and took the peasants' part. She came to her husband, and began to beg him: "My dear Míshenka, do not sin, for the Lord's holiday! For Christ's sake, send the peasants home!" Mikhaíl Seménovich did not accept his wife's words, but only laughed at her: "Is it too long a time since the whip danced over you that you have become so bold, and meddle in what is not your concern?" "Míshenka, my dear, I have had a bad dream about you. Listen to my words and send the peasants home!" "Precisely, that's what I say. Evidently you have gathered so much fat that you think the whip will not hurt you. Look out!" Seménovich grew angry, knocked the burning pipe into her teeth, sent her away, and told her to get the dinner ready. Mikhaíl Seménovich ate cold gelatine, dumplings, beet soup with pork, roast pig, and milk noodles, and drank cherry cordial, and ate pastry for dessert; he called in the cook and made her sit down and sing songs to him, while he himself took the guitar and accompanied her. Mikhaíl Seménovich was sitting in a happy mood and belching, and strumming the guitar, and laughing with the cook. The elder came in, made a bow, and began to report what he had seen in the field. "Well, are they ploughing? Will they finish the task?" "They have already ploughed more than half." "No strips left?" "I have not seen any. They are afraid, and are working well." "And are they breaking up the dirt well?" "The earth is soft and falls to pieces like a poppy." The clerk was silent for awhile.