Taráska, who had been helping his father earth up the potatoes, lay fast asleep in the shade of a dark oak. His father sat by him, keeping an eye on the horse⁠—which he had taken out of the plough, and which was now grazing near the border of his neighbour’s land⁠—for fear it might stray among the oats or into the neighbour’s meadow.

In Nicholas Semyónovitch’s family everything was pursuing its usual course. All was well. The three-course lunch was ready, and the flies were eating it because nobody felt inclined for food.

Nicholas Semyónovitch was pleased with the justice of his arguments, proved by what the papers said that morning. Marie was quiet because Gógo’s digestion was all right again. The doctor was satisfied because his medicine had been successful; and Vólya was contented because he had eaten a whole plateful of strawberries.