Taras had not striven against it; he had voted for Simeon, but for the rest he let matters take their course. "The beggars will be the ruin of the village!" cried Anusia, in whom the pride of blood was strong. "It is atrocious that men like my Uncle Stephen, and you, and Simeon, should be succeeded by the rabble!"
But Taras took it quietly. "They are making their own bed," he said, "let them try it!"
"I wish you would not pretend such callousness," exclaimed Anusia, "there is no one who loves the village better than you do!"
"Perhaps not," said he, "but I cannot alter the state of things; besides, I have other cares now."
"Cares? What are they?" she cried. "Is not the farm as flourishing as ever?" To this he had no answer.
He did his work in those days with diligence and perseverance, as though he were not the richest peasant in the village, but a poor labourer merely, who had to gain his next day's bread. And whereas formerly he had always been guided by his own opinion, he would consult his wife's now, soliciting her advice. Anusia felt proud at this mark of confidence, till she discovered that he desired to hear her views in order to correct them. And as the question mostly referred to matters concerning which, capable as she was, she knew nothing, since, by the nature of them, they rather belonged to the husband's sphere, she lost patience at last. "What have I to do with assessments and taxes?" she exclaimed.
"You must get to know about them," he replied, gently.
"But why? Is it not enough that you should know?"
"Yes, now; but the time may come when you will have to do without me."
These words did not frighten her, appearing too ludicrous. A strong, healthy man, not forty years old--how should she take alarm? "You croaker!" she said, "we'll think about that fifty years hence."