That they were only sowing the clover on fifteen acres, not on all the forty-five, was still more annoying to him. Clover, as he knew, both from books and from his own experience, never did well except when it was sown as early as possible, almost in the snow. And yet Levin could never get this done.

“There’s no one to send. What would you have with such a set of peasants? Three haven’t turned up. And there’s Semyon.⁠ ⁠…”

“Well, you should have taken some men from the thatching.”

“And so I have, as it is.”

“Where are the peasants, then?”

“Five are making compôte ” (which meant compost), “four are shifting the oats for fear of a touch of mildew, Konstantin Dmitrievitch.”