Levin walked after him and often thought he must fall, as he climbed with a scythe up a steep cliff where it would have been hard work to clamber without anything.

But he climbed up and did what he had to do.

He felt as though some external force were moving him.

Mashkin Upland was mown, the last row finished, the peasants had put on their coats and were gaily trudging home.

Levin got on his horse and, parting regretfully from the peasants, rode homewards.