The breeze rustled in the grass; overhead, the lapwings screamed more and more plaintively: and they, rocking their bodies from right to left, mowed on unweariedly, conquering the meadow foot by foot. Only now and again did one or another of them halt to whet his scythe or straighten his back, and then once more he mowed away with a will, leaving behind him ever more and more numerous swaths. Before the sun had risen above the village, all the meadows echoed beneath the strokes of the mowers: the blue steel of the scythe-blades flashed everywhere; everywhere could be heard the stridulous clang of the whetstones; everywhere the strong perfume of mown grass was inhaled. It was perfect weather for haymaking. An ancient adage says, indeed: “Begin to make hay: rain will fall the same day”; but this year it was quite the other way round. Instead of rainy weather, there was drought. The days began, moist with dew, and yet parched, like a man in a fever; they ended in nights baked with heat. Some wells and rills had been dried up; the corn was turning yellow, the plants withered away. Countless insects assailed the trees, which began to cast their yet unripe fruit. Cows, returning hungry from the sere grass of the pastures, had ceased to give milk; and the Squire allowed none to graze their beasts on his clearings but those who paid him five roubles a head. Very many had not so much cash to pay him. But, setting aside these particular inflictions, the hard times usual before harvest were this year harder than ever. They had reckoned on rain falling surely in June, and the field crops benefiting thereby: nay, money had even been offered for Masses to that intention. And now, some had really nothing to put in the pot! But the worst of all was that not even the oldest inhabitant could remember a time when there had been so many law troubles: the great forest action not yet settled, and the Voyt’s affair still setting people by the ears, and Dominikova’s quarrel with her son, and the Germans, and many another matter of dispute between neighbours: so many, in fact, that what with such incessant brawls and wranglings, they almost forgot their more material afflictions. Of course then, as soon as ever haymaking time had come round, all the people began to breathe more freely, the poorer among them hurrying off to seek work at the Manor farms, and the wealthier peasants, deaf to all other matters, setting at once to mow their grass. They did not, however, quite forget the Germans, but got someone or other to go daily and see what they were about. They still were there, but had given up digging wells and fetching stones to build; and, as the blacksmith announced one day, they had laid a complaint against the Squire for money matters, and against the men of Lipka for “threats and conspiracy.” At this the peasants laughed very heartily. It was just this topic which was discussed that day in the meadow at dinner-time.