Chapter 69 Part Two - Seven

The mayor's yard was buzzing with voices, but as soon as Nekhludoff arrived the peasants stopped talking and took off their hats, as at Kuzminskoye.The peasants here are much poorer than those in Kuzminskoye.The girls and women in the village wore pompoms in their ears, and almost all the men wore bark shoes, homespun shirts, and old-fashioned long coats.A few were barefoot and wearing only shirts, as if they had just returned from work. Nekhludoff cheered up and began to speak.He announced to the peasants that he intended to give them all the land.The farmer remained silent, and the expression on his face remained unchanged.

"Because I think," said Nekhludoff, blushing, "that those who do not cultivate the land should not own it, and that everyone has the right to use it." "Of course. That's the right thing to say," several farmers responded. Nekhludoff also said that the income from the land should be shared equally among everyone, so he suggested that they accept the land and pay the price they set themselves as a provident fund, which will still belong to them in the future.There was another sound of praise, but the serious faces of the farmers became more and more serious. They looked at the owner with lowered eyes, as if they had seen through his tricks. No one wanted to be fooled, but they didn't want to let him Embarrassed.

Nekhludoff spoke quite clearly, and the peasants were sensible, but at the moment they did not understand him.They could no more understand his words than the steward could understand him.They are convinced that it is human nature to stand up for one's own interests.There is no doubt about this.They know from the experience of their ancestors that the landlords always protect their own interests at the expense of the interests of the peasants.Therefore, if the landowners call them together and propose to them some new method, it must be to deceive them by more cunning means. "So, at what price do you plan to use the land?" asked Nekhludoff.

"Why do you want us to set the price? We can't decide. The land belongs to your lord, and the authority is in your lord's hands," someone in the crowd replied. "No, the money will be used in the public welfare undertakings of your village in the future." "We can't decide. A village commune is a village commune, and money is money." "You must understand," said the steward, following Nekhludoff, trying to explain the matter more clearly, and said with a smile, "the prince handed over the land to you and asked you to pay a sum of money, but the money is regarded as Your capital is for the village community to use."

"We understand this too well," an old man with missing teeth said angrily without raising his eyes. "It's a bit like a bank. You have to pay when the time comes. We don't do it because we've suffered enough. If we do it again, we have to go bankrupt." "There's no need for that. Let's do it the old way," said a few dissatisfied, even rude voices. Nekhludoff proposed a contract, which he would sign, and they had to sign.They listened and opposed more fiercely. "What do you sign for? How we worked in the past will continue to work in the future.

What are you doing here?We are all rough and uneducated. " "We don't agree, because we can't get used to it. What we did in the past, we will do in the future. As long as the seeds can be cancelled, it will be fine," several people said in unison. The so-called abolition of seeds means that according to the current rules, the seeds should be produced by the farmers on the farmland of the halved system, but now they require that the seeds be produced by the landlords. "So you reject this plan, you don't want to accept land?" Nekhludoff said to a young, barefoot peasant with a radiant face.The peasant, in a worn old-fashioned long coat, bent his left arm, and held his battered hat very straight, like a soldier holding his hat at the command to take it off.

"Yes, sir," said the peasant, obviously still in the habit of being a soldier, who seemed to be hypnotized when he heard the password. "So you have enough land?" said Nekhludoff. "No, sir," replied the ex-soldier with an air of mirth, trying to hold up his battered hat in front of him, as if offering it to anyone who would take it. "Well, you'd better think about what I've said," said Nekhludoff, bewildered and repeating his suggestion. "We have nothing to think about. We do what we say," said the sullen, toothless old man angrily.

"I'll be here all day tomorrow. If you change your mind, send someone to tell me." The peasants answered nothing. Nekhludoff found nothing and went back to the tent. "I'll tell you the truth, prince," said Nekhludoff, returning home with the steward, "you can't get on with them, these folks are very stubborn. They're always stubborn at meetings." It's terrible, no one can convince them. They have scruples about everything. Those peasants, white-haired or black-haired, are very smart even if they don't agree with your method. They go to the counting house Come on, you just need to invite them to sit down and have a cup of tea," the butler said with a smile. ..."

"Well, can you bring some of the most sensible peasants here," said Nekhludoff, "and I want to explain it to them in detail." "That's fine," said the butler with a smile. "Then please invite them to come tomorrow." "It's all easy, I'll just call them tomorrow," said the butler, smiling more cheerfully. "Look, what a devil he is!" said a swarthy, shaggy-bearded peasant, staggering on a fat horse, to an old and thin peasant in a worn old-fashioned long coat beside him.The iron tripwires on the legs of the peasant's horse jingled.

The two peasants grazed their horses on the high road at night, and allowed their horses to slip away to graze in the landowner's woods. "'You just sign, and I'll give you the land for nothing.' Well, isn't it enough that they tricked us! No, man, no, now we've learned to behave," he went on, calling a A stray yearling foal. "Little Foal, Little Foal!" He wanted to call the foal to a halt, but when he looked back, the foal was not behind, but ran diagonally onto the pasture. "Look at you bastard, slipping off to your master's meadow," said the swarthy, shaggy farmer, who heard the stray colt neighing as he galloped across the dew-smelling, weed-scented swale, trampling the sorrel. Crack, say so.

"Did you hear, the meadows are overgrown with weeds, and the girls have to be sent out to weed the halves on the day off," said the thin peasant in the old-fashioned old-fashioned coat, "or the scythe will break .” "He said 'you sign it,'" continued the shaggy peasant, commenting on the owner's words. "As soon as you sign, he will swallow you alive." "That's quite true," echoed the older one. They said nothing more.The only sound was the sound of horseshoes on the hard road.