Page:The Novels of Ivan Turgenev (volume VI).djvu/111

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woke up early, and without waiting for a servant to make his appearance he dressed and went out into the garden. It was very large and beautiful, this garden, and was kept in splendid order; hired labourers were scraping the paths with spades; among the intense green of the bushes peeped the red kerchiefs of peasant-girls armed with rakes. Nezhdanov made his way to the lake: the fog of early morning had already disappeared from it, but the mist still clung about in parts, in shady nooks in the banks. The sun, not yet high in the sky, beat with rosy light over the broad, silky, leaden-hued surface. Some carpenters were busily at work near the washing-platform; a new, freshly painted boat lay there, feebly rocking from side to side, stirring a faint eddy in the water about it. The men's voices were heard seldom, and in reserved fashion: about everything there was a feeling of morning, of the peace and rapid progress of morning work,