Next appeared hunchback Aliosha, hopelessly drunk, and without his concertina. His chest and knees were covered with dust and straw; it was plain he had fallen on the road. Rolling tipsily from side to side, he went into the shed and, without undressing, threw himself on a sledge and at once began to snore. When the rising sun burnt with a fierce glow the crosses on the church, when later the windows imaged it, when across the yard through the dewy grass stretched shadows from the trees, only then did Matvei Savvitch rise and begin to bustle about.
“Kuzka, get up!” he shouted. “It's time to yoke the horses. Look sharp!”
The morning's work began. A young Jewess in a brown, flounced dress led a horse to water. The windlass creaked plaintively, the bucket rattled. Kuzka, sleepy, unrested, covered with dew, sat on the cai't and drew on his coat lazily and, listening to the water splashing in the well, shuddered from the cold.
“Auntie!” cried Matvei Savvitch. “Sing out to my lad to come and yoke the horses!”
And at the same minute Diudya called out of the window —
“Sophia, make the Jewess pay a kopeck for the water. They take it always, the scabbies!”
Up and down the street ran bleating sheep; women bawled at the shepherd; and the shepherd
