bent the tops of the pear, peach, and mulberry trees with which the vineyard was sprinkled. The cornet, having crossed himself once more, took a little jug of chikhir that stood behind him covered with a vine-leaf, and having had a drink from the mouth of the jug passed it to the old woman.

He had nothing on over his shirt, which was unfastened at the neck and showed his shaggy muscular chest. His fine-featured cunning face looked cheerful; neither in his attitude nor in his words was his usual wiliness to be seen; he was cheerful and natural.

‘Shall we finish the bit beyond the shed to-night?’ he asked, wiping his wet beard.

‘We’ll manage it,’ replied his wife, ‘if only the weather does not hinder us. The Demkins have not half finished yet,’