I used to walk through the garden and the meadow to our mill. It
was let to a peasant of Kurilovka called Stepan, a handsome, dark
fellow with a thick black beard, who looked very strong. He did not
like the miller's work, and looked upon it as dreary and unprofitable,
and only lived at the mill in order not to live at home. He was a
leather-worker, and was always surrounded by a pleasant smell of
tar and leather. He was not fond of talking, he was listless and
sluggish, and was always sitting in the doorway or on the river
bank, humming "oo-loo-loo." His wife and mother-in-law, both
white-faced, languid, and meek, used sometimes to come from Kurilovka
to see him; they made low bows to him and addressed him formally,
"Stepan Petrovitch," while he went on sitting on the river bank,
softly humming "oo-loo-loo," without responding by word or movement
to their bows. One hour and then a second would pass in silence.
His mother-in-law and wife, after whispering together, would get
up and gaze at him for some time, expecting him to look round; then
they would make a low bow, and in sugary, chanting voices, say:

"Good-bye, Stepan Petrovitch!"

And they would go away. After that Stepan, picking up the parcel
they had left, containing cracknels or a shirt, would heave a sigh
and say, winking in their direction:

"The female sex!"

The mill with two sets of millstones worked day and night. I used
to help Stepan; I liked the work, and when he went off I was glad
to stay and take his place.