Cultivate, then, according to the commandment, a piece of ground, and all will belong to you that you need.
83. Sometimes I have not a single kopeck for one or perhaps two months. However, when I am fatigued with my day's work, I make tura.[1] I eat well—the tura seems to me better than all your dainty dishes are to you; and I return to my work singing.
But you, if you were for two months without my bread, what song would you sing?
Now consider well which of us two lives at the expense of the other. Is it you or I? It is you.
Then why do you not place yourself among my friends? Which of us should occupy the first place at the table? It is surely I. But why have you taken it? Who has given it to you, or accorded you this honor?
Defend yourself by valid excuses, or else do not eat our bread. Or, if you will, cultivate with your own hands a piece of ground, and then take your place at the table. Otherwise, be off with you!
84. I think your reply would be like this which the rich man made to me: I would labor, but I know not how. Once in my life I took up a scythe; I raised it in the air with all my force, and it but glanced over the grass. Then I used more strength, and half buried it in the ground. Next I took a reaping-hook, and after
- ↑ Bread crumbled and soaked in kvass.
