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- Лев Толстой
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- Анна Каренина
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- Стр. 274/828
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“
Lunch
,
sir
,
”
said
the
old
man
.
“
Is
it
really
time
?
That
’
s
right
;
lunch
,
then
.
”
Levin
gave
his
scythe
to
Tit
,
and
together
with
the
peasants
,
who
were
crossing
the
long
stretch
of
mown
grass
,
slightly
sprinkled
with
rain
,
to
get
their
bread
from
the
heap
of
coats
,
he
went
towards
his
house
.
Only
then
he
suddenly
awoke
to
the
fact
that
he
had
been
wrong
about
the
weather
and
the
rain
was
drenching
his
hay
.
“
The
hay
will
be
spoiled
,
”
he
said
.
“
Not
a
bit
of
it
,
sir
;
mow
in
the
rain
,
and
you
’
ll
rake
in
fine
weather
!
”
said
the
old
man
.
Levin
untied
his
horse
and
rode
home
to
his
coffee
.
Sergey
Ivanovitch
was
only
just
getting
up
.
When
he
had
drunk
his
coffee
,
Levin
rode
back
again
to
the
mowing
before
Sergey
Ivanovitch
had
had
time
to
dress
and
come
down
to
the
dining
-
room
.
After
lunch
Levin
was
not
in
the
same
place
in
the
string
of
mowers
as
before
,
but
stood
between
the
old
man
who
had
accosted
him
jocosely
,
and
now
invited
him
to
be
his
neighbor
,
and
a
young
peasant
,
who
had
only
been
married
in
the
autumn
,
and
who
was
mowing
this
summer
for
the
first
time
.
The
old
man
,
holding
himself
erect
,
moved
in
front
,
with
his
feet
turned
out
,
taking
long
,
regular
strides
,
and
with
a
precise
and
regular
action
which
seemed
to
cost
him
no
more
effort
than
swinging
one
’
s
arms
in
walking
,
as
though
it
were
in
play
,
he
laid
down
the
high
,
even
row
of
grass
.
It
was
as
though
it
were
not
he
but
the
sharp
scythe
of
itself
swishing
through
the
juicy
grass
.
Behind
Levin
came
the
lad
Mishka
.
His
pretty
,
boyish
face
,
with
a
twist
of
fresh
grass
bound
round
his
hair
,
was
all
working
with
effort
;
but
whenever
anyone
looked
at
him
he
smiled
.
He
would
clearly
have
died
sooner
than
own
it
was
hard
work
for
him
.
Levin
kept
between
them
.
In
the
very
heat
of
the
day
the
mowing
did
not
seem
such
hard
work
to
him
.
The
perspiration
with
which
he
was
drenched
cooled
him
,
while
the
sun
,
that
burned
his
back
,
his
head
,
and
his
arms
,
bare
to
the
elbow
,
gave
a
vigor
and
dogged
energy
to
his
labor
;
and
more
and
more
often
now
came
those
moments
of
unconsciousness
,
when
it
was
possible
not
to
think
what
one
was
doing
.
The
scythe
cut
of
itself
.
These
were
happy
moments
.
