I kneaded one trough, began another, and when that was done, started on the wheat, which is kneaded with the hands. I was a strong fellow, but was not used to the work. The flour filled my nose, my mouth, my ears and eyes, so that I became deaf and blind; and the sweat kept dropping from my forehead into the dough.
"Haven't you a piece of cloth," I asked, "to wipe the sweat off?"
Misha became raging mad. "We will get you velvet towels. The monastery has been standing 230 years, and has only been waiting for your new orders."
I had to laugh, unwillingly. "I am not kneading the dough for myself," I said. "There are others who have to eat the bread."
He walked up to me, bristling like a porcupine and every part of him trembling.
"Take a sack and wipe yourself, if you are so tender. But I will tell the Abbot about your impudence."
I was so surprised at this man that I could not be angry at him. He worked unceasingly, and the heavy two-hundred sacks were like little pillows in his hands. He was covered with flour, grumbled, swore and urged me on continually.
"Hurry! Hurry!"
I hurried till my head swam.