"Time and again I told them," said the smiling clerk, looking around
at Nekhludoff, as if calling him to witness, "to look out for cows
when driving them to feed."

"I just went to see to the child, and they walked away."

"Don't leave them when you undertake to look after them."

"And who would feed my child?"

"If they had only grazed, at least, they would have no pains in their
stomachs. But they only walked in."

"All the meadows are spoiled," the clerk turned to Nekhludoff. "If
they are not made to pay there will be no hay left."

"Don't be sinning," cried the pregnant woman. "My cow was never
caught."

"But now that she was caught, pay for her, or work."

"Well, then, I will work. But return me the cow; don't torture her,"
she cried angrily. "It is bad enough as it is; I get no rest, either
day or night. Mother-in-law is sick; my husband is drunk.
Single-handed I have to do all the work, and I have no strength. May
you choke yourself!" she shouted and began to weep.

Nekhludoff asked the clerk to release the cows and returned to the
house, wondering why people do not see what is so plain.