That you have been moistened;
The sweat of the peasant
Has fallen on you.
"The peasants are gladdened
At sight of the oats,
And the rye and the barley,
But not by the wheat,
For it feeds but the chosen.
'We love you not, Wheat!
But the rye and the barley
We love—they are kind,
They feed all men alike.' "
As each one turned to his task I joined in the work, fetching water, tying sheaves, swinging a scythe, watching the light-brown stalks come tumbling down. The scythe demands skill and practice. So the figure I cut and the swathe I cut were not heroic, nor did I add to the prestige of American reapers. Ivan was too polite to criticize my technique but I could see that it was inciting him to suppressed merriment. In his comment to Avdotia I picked up the Russian word for camel. I was indeed hunched over like a camel while Ivan Ivanov stood erect, handling his scythe like a mastercraftsman. I turned upon Ivan and accused him of likening me to a camel. He was embarrassed. But when he saw that I was amused, and admitted my likeness to that humped creature, he laughed and laughed.
"Tatyana! Mikhail! " he roared. "Albert Davidovich says that when he cuts the grain he looks like a camel. Ho! ho! ho!" Two or three times after
