"In what sense do you mean to give us the land?" asked a middle-aged
peasant in a caftan.

"To rent it to you, that you might use it at a low price."

"That is the loveliest thing," said an old man.

"If the payment is not above our means," said another.

"Of course we will take the land."

"It is our business--we get our sustenance from the land."

"So much the better for you. All you have to do is to take the money.
And what sins you will spare yourself----"

"The sin is on you," said the German. "If you would only work and keep
things in order----"

"We cannot, Vasily Karlych," said a lean old man with a pointed nose.
"You ask, Who let the horse feed in the field? But who did it? Day in
and day out--and every day is as long as a year--I worked with the
scythe, and as I fell asleep the horse went among the oats. And now
you are fleecing me."

"You should keep order."

"It is easy for you to say keep order. But we have no strength,"
retorted a middle-aged peasant, all covered with hair.