came harder and harder. But, as before, just as he believed himself at the end of his forces, Sef stopped and whetted his scythe.
Thus they went over the first swath. And this long stretch seemed especially hard for Levin. When the swath was finished and Sef, throwing the scythe over his shoulder, slowly walked back in the tracks made by his heels as he had mowed, and Levin also retraced his steps in the same way, although the sweat stood on his face and dropped from his nose, and all his back was as wet as if he had been plunged in water; still he felt very comfortable. He was especially glad that he knew now that he could keep up with the rest.
His pleasure was marred only by the fact that his swath was not good.
"I will work less with my arms and more with my whole body," he said to himself, carefully comparing Sef's smooth straight swath with his own rough and irregular line.
The first time, as Levin observed, Sef went very rapidly, apparently wishing to test his barin's endurance, and the swath seemed endless. But the succeeding swaths grew easier and easier. Still Levin had to exert all his energies not to fall behind the muzhiks. He had no other thought, no other desire, than to reach the other end of the meadow as soon as the others did, and to do his work as perfectly as possible. He heard nothing but the swish of the scythes, saw nothing but Sef's straight back, plodding on in front of him, and the semicircle described in the grass which fell over, slowly carrying with it the delicate heads of flowers, and then far in front of him the end of the row, where he would be able to get breath.
Not at first realizing what it was or whence it came, suddenly in the midst of his labors he felt a pleasant sensation of coolness on his shoulders. He looked up at the sky while Sef was plying the whetstone, and he saw an inky black cloud. A heavy shower had come up and the raindrops were falling fast. Some of the muzhiks were putting on their kaftans; others, like
