Simon. The Lord only knows—I can't make it out.
First Peasant. Naturally, it is for the distraction of time.
Second Peasant. Well, it's clear you and I can make nothing of it. You had better tell me whether you have taken all your wages yet.
Simon. No, I've not drawn any. I have twenty-eight roubles to the good, I think.
Second Peasant. That's all right! Well, if God grants that we get the land, I'll take you home, Simon.
Simon. With all my heart!
Second Peasant. You've got spoilt, I should say. You'll not want to plough?
Simon. Plough? Only give me the chance! Plough or mow,—I'm game. Those are things one doesn't forget.
First Peasant. But it don't seem very desirous after town life, for example? Eh!
Simon. It's good enough for me. One can live in the country, too.