Both lay awake thinking in silence.

"It's cold," said Sofya, beginning to shiver all over. "It will soon be
morning.... Are you asleep?"

"No.... Don't you mind what I say, dear," whispered Varvara; "I get so
mad with the damned brutes, I don't know what I do say. Go to sleep, or
it will be daylight directly.... Go to sleep."

Both were quiet and soon they fell asleep.

Earlier than all woke the old woman. She waked up Sofya and they went
together into the cowshed to milk the cows. The hunchback Alyoshka came
in hopelessly drunk without his concertina; his breast and knees had
been in the dust and straw--he must have fallen down in the road.
Staggering, he went into the cowshed, and without undressing he rolled
into a sledge and began to snore at once. When first the crosses on the
church and then the windows were flashing in the light of the rising
sun, and shadows stretched across the yard over the dewy grass from
the trees and the top of the well, Matvey Savitch jumped up and began
hurrying about:

"Kuzka! get up!" he shouted. "It's time to put in the horses! Look
sharp!"

The bustle of morning was beginning. A young Jewess in a brown gown
with flounces led a horse into the yard to drink. The pulley of the well
creaked plaintively, the bucket knocked as it went down....

Kuzka, sleepy, tired, covered with dew, sat up in the cart, lazily