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The peasants stood round in a crowd, doing nothing but staring at the fire. No one knew what to do, no one had the sense to do anything, though there were stacks of wheat, hay, barns, and piles of faggots standing all round. And as though to justify his doing nothing, old Osip said, addressing the woman who lay on the ground: "What is there to trouble about, old girl! The hut is insured—why are you taking on?"

I think I am going to have to give up on this one. It’s good, but not the all time classic it is made out to be. It reads more like a screenplay or a script than a novel.