Mikhaíl Seménovich ate cold gelatine, dumplings, beet soup with pork, roast pig, and milk noodles, and drank cherry cordial, and ate pastry for dessert; he called in the cook and made her sit down and sing songs to him, while he himself took the guitar and accompanied her.
Mikhaíl Seménovich was sitting in a happy mood and belching, and strumming the guitar, and laughing with the cook. The elder came in, made a bow, and began to report what he had seen in the field.
"Well, are they ploughing? Will they finish the task?"
"They have already ploughed more than half."
"No strips left?"
"I have not seen any. They are afraid, and are working well."
"And are they breaking up the dirt well?"
"The earth is soft and falls to pieces like a poppy."
The clerk was silent for awhile.
"What do they say about me? Are they cursing me?"