The day's work of the Orloffs left nothing to wish for in the way of monotony. Matrona got up at six o'clock, washed herself, and prepared the samovar; this utensil had more than once in the heat of strife, received some hard hits, and was in consequence covered with patches of solder. While the water was heating in the samovar, she had already swept out the room and prepared breakfast Then she awoke her husband. By the time he was up and washed, the samovar was boiling and hissing on the table. Then they drank their tea and ate their white bread, of which they consumed a whole pound. Grigori was a skilled worker, and never therefore without work. Whilst they were drinking their tea he apportioned out the day's labour; he did the finer parts which required a master hand, whilst his wife's share lay in twisting the waxed threads, and in finishing off pieces of work which did not require so much skill. They also spoke during breakfast of what they should have for their dinner. In the winter, when the stomach required more, this was a fairly interesting subject, but in the summer when the stove, for motives of economy, was only lit on high days and holidays, and not always then, they lived mostly on cold meats, on kwass, varied with salt-fish and onions; sometimes they boiled, on some neighbour's fire in the courtyard, a piece of meat. As soon as their breakfast was finished they sat down to work, Grigori astride on a log of wood covered with bits of leather, Matrona on a low stool beside him. At first they would work in silence, for what had they to talk about? They might sometimes exchange a few words about their work, and then silence would once more reign for half-an-hour or more. The blows of the hammer fell with a dull sound, the thread squeaked as it was drawn through the tight-stretched leather. Grigori yawned now and then, and after each yawn would close his mouth with a loud noise. Matrona sighed and was silent.