“Then you’ve as good as given away your forest for nothing,” said Levin gloomily.

“How do you mean for nothing?” said Stepan Arkadyevitch with a good-humored smile, knowing that nothing would be right in Levin’s eyes now.

“Because the forest is worth at least a hundred and fifty roubles the acre,” answered Levin.

“Oh, these farmers!” said Stepan Arkadyevitch playfully. “Your tone of contempt for us poor townsfolk!⁠ ⁠… But when it comes to business, we do it better than anyone. I assure you I have reckoned it all out,” he said, “and the forest is fetching a very good price⁠—so much so that I’m afraid of this fellow’s crying off, in fact. You know it’s not ‘timber,’ ” said Stepan Arkadyevitch, hoping by this distinction to convince Levin completely of the unfairness of his doubts. “And it won’t run to more than twenty-five yards of fagots per acre, and he’s giving me at the rate of seventy roubles the acre.”