In such peril and fear shall the woman stand idle? Idle she never is, even from inclination, her household duties, the care of the young, the ministration to the sick and feeble, the preparation of the daily meal, being sufficient to keep her fully employed. But shall she stop at these when failure on the man's part may to-morrow sweep away not only the few articles of clothing and the one or two of furniture they possess, but also the food which is to last them during the coming year? The thought is death itself. She must go to the fields. No matter how young her child, nor how near to death her aged mother or father; no matter how rigorous the climate or deficient her clothing: she must go to the fields. They are miles away, perhaps--for in Russia, serfdom, the communal system and other circumstances have forced the peasantry to live in villages--but go she must, with the child on her back or left ailing and uncared-for in the hut, with the sick or dying behind her and misery all around. Arrived at the scene of her unnatural labors, she applies herself to them with an energy which despair alone could engender, and which ends in completely unsexing her. She becomes weatherbeaten, coarse and repulsive. Her hands are like knots of wood; she is covered with dirt; her bones have grown large; her step is ungainly; she speaks in husky tones; she swears, drinks and fights. Meanwhile the corn ripens. After gigantic efforts she succeeds in harvesting it. At best it would have repaid the seed but three times, but gathered and threshed with insufficient skill or barbarous tools, it scarcely more than doubles the perilous investment. Then this poor creature casts herself upon the earth and weeps, for are not both parent and child dead from exposure, from insufficient food, from the lack of that attention which she alone could have conferred? The links that bound her poor, rugged, but still woman's heart to both the sad past and the hopeful future are severed, and she is almost alone in the world. But her husband returns, and his joyful looks reanimate her. He has succeeded. The tax is paid, and they are free for another year. But at what a cost! This sketch is far from being exaggerated. Too often does it happen that despite these sacrifices the tax is not paid. Says Flerofski: "Along that road walks a peasant's family in sorrowful procession, shedding bitter tears. Is it a funeral? No, it is only the last calf being led for sale with the aid of the local authorities. It is necessary to levy rents with strictness, for are not the proprietors already ruined?" (He means, ironically, by the emancipation of the serfs.) "And, in fact, were it not for the deep impression thus made on the peasant, did he not know that his last food-giving beast would be taken from him, his last pot of milk carried out of his hut, although wanted for his newborn child, which would perish without it, the landed proprietors could not collect the tenth part of their rents."