The baby is crying. He has long since become hoarse and exhausted from crying, but even so still screams, and it is unknown when he will cease. And Varka wants to sleep. Her eyes won't stay open, her head is pulling downward, her neck hurts. She is not able to move her eyes or her lips, and to her it seems as though her face has dried out and turned to wood, that her head has grown small, like a pin's head.

In the stove chirps a cricket. In the adjoining room, behind the door, snore the master and the apprentice Afanasy...the cradle plaintively creaks, Varka herself is purring, and all this blends into the nocturnal, lulling music, which is so sweet to hear, when you lie down in bed. Now though, all the music only irritates and oppresses, because it forces you to slumber, and it is forbidden to sleep ; if Varka, God forbid, falls asleep, then her masters will beat her.

The lamp flickers. The green patch and the shadows begin to stir, they crawl into the half-opened, unmoving eyes of Varka and into her half asleep brain, and take shape as foggy dreams. She see dark clouds, which chase each other about the sky and shriek like the baby. But now the wind is blowing, and the clouds disappear, and Varka sees a wide highway, covered with watery mud: along the highway stretch out vehicles. People trudge along with knapsacks on their backs, going back and forth are some kind of shadows; along both sides through cold, bleak fog she sees the forest. Suddenly the people with the knapsacks and the shadows fall on the ground into the watery mud. "What happened?" asks Varka. "Sleep, sleep!" They answer her. And they fall asleep soundly, they sleep sweetly, and on the telegraph wires sit crows and magpies, screeching like the baby, trying to awaken them.

"Wait a minute, sir, wait a minute," says Pelageya, and rushes out of the izba and, in a little while returns with a candle-end.

Efim's cheeks are rosy, his eyes glisten and appear as though they are especially sharp, as though Efim can see right through both the cabin and the doctor.

"Well what? What do you think?" says the doctor, bending over him. "Aha! How long have you had this?"
"What of it? It's time to die, your honor, time passes...there is not to be any more life for me..."
"That's enough, don't speak nonsense...we'll cure you!"
"It is as you please, your honor, we thank you humbly, but only we understand...if death comes, that it is already here."

The Doctor for a quarter of an hour fusses with Efim; and then rises and says:
"I can do no more... you need to go to the hospital, there they will do an operation on you. Go right now...Go without fail! It's a bit late, in the hospital they all are already asleep, but that is nothing, I will give you a note to give to them. Do you hear?"
"Sir, yes, but how will he get there?" says Pelageya. "We have no horse."
"Nevermind, I will ask the gentry, they will give you a horse."

The doctor leaves, the candle goes out, and again they can hear "boo-boo-boo"...After a half hour someone comes toward the izba. The gentry has sent a cart in order to travel to the hospital. Efim gets himself ready and goes.

Morning comes fine and clear. Pelegeya is not at home: she has gone to the hospital to learn how Efim is. Somewhere a baby is crying, and Varka hears, how someone is singing in her own voice:

Varka goes into the forest and cries there, but suddenly someone beats her about the back of her head with such strength, that she knocks her brow against a birch tree. She raises her eyes and sees in front of her, her master the cobbler.

He jerked her painfully behind the ear, but she shakes her head, rocks the cradle and purrs her song. The green patch and shadows from the trousers and diapers oscillate, wink at her and soon again capture her brain. Again she see the highway, covered with watery mud. People with knapsacks on their backs and the shadows are stretched out soundly asleep. Looking at them, Varka passionately wants to sleep: she would joyfully lie down, but her mother Pelageya is walking alongside her and hurries her. Both of them are hurrying into town to find work.
"Give alms for the love of Christ!" begs her mother to the people they meet. "Show God's mercy, charitable people!"

"Give the baby here!" someone's familiar voice answers her. "Give the baby here!" repeats the same voice, but this time angrily and harshly. "Are you sleeping, wretch?"

Varka shrieks and looks around, and realizes what is going on: there is no highway, no Pelageya, no passersby, but standing in the middle of the room, there is only her mistress, who has come to feed the baby. While the fat, broad-shouldered mistress feeds and calms the baby, Varka stands, looking at her and waiting until she is finished. Outside the windows the air is already turning blue, the shadows and green patch on the ceiling becoming pale. Soon it will be morning.

"Take him!" says the mistress, fastening the blouse over her breast. "He is crying." "Must have been looked at with the evil eye."
Varka takes the baby, lays him in the cradle, and again begins rocking it. The green patch and the shadows, little by little disappear, and now there is no one to crawl into her head and fog her brain. But she wants to sleep as before, she wants it terribly. Varka lays her head on the edge if the cradle and rocks with her whole torso, in order to overcome sleepiness, but her eyes again try to close and her head is heavy.

She sits on the floor, cleans the shoes and thinks, how good it would be to thrust her head into the large, deep boots and nap in them a little bit...and suddenly the boot grows, swells, fills up the whole room. Varka drops the brush, but immediately shakes her head, bulges her eyes tries to focus, in order to keep things from growing and moving in front of her eyes.
"Varka, clean the outside steps, so they don't shame the customers!"

Varka scrubs the steps, straightens the rooms, then stokes the other stove and runs to the store. There is much work, and not even one moment of freedom.

But nothing is so difficult as standing in one place in front of the kitchen table and cleaning potatoes. Her head sags toward the table, the potatoes blur in her eyes, the knife falls from her hands, and around her walks the fat, angry mistress with rolled-up sleeves. She speaks so loudly that Varka's ears ring.It is agonizing also, to serve at dinner, to wash, to sew. There come minutes, when she wants, no matter how it looks, to collapse on the floor and sleep.

The day pases. Looking at the dark windows, Varka squeezes her wooden temples and smiles, not even knowing herself why she is glad. The evening gloom caresses her sticky eyes and promises her soon, a sound sleep. In the evening guests come to the master and mistress.
"Varka, put on the samovar!" screams the mistress.

The masters have a small samovar, and before th guests have had their fill of tea, it has to be taken and reheated at least five times. After tea, Varka stands for a whole hour in one place, watching the guests and waiting for orders.
"Varka, run and buy three bottles of beer!"

She dashes from the place and and begins running faster to fend off sleep.
"Varka, run for some vodka!" "Varka, where is the corkscrew?" "Varka, clean the herring!"

But then, at last, the guests have left, the lights are extinguished, the master and mistress have laid down in bed.
"Varka, rock the baby!" rings out the last order.

She laughs. To her it is amazing: how earlier could she not have understood such a simple thing? The green patch, the shadows and the cricket as well, it seems, are laughing and amazed themselves.

A false idea siezes Varka. She gets up from her stool and, smiling widely, without blinking her eyes, strolls about the room. She is pleased and tickled by the thought, that in a minute she can get rid of the baby, which is chaining her by the arms and legs...To kill the baby, and then to sleep, sleep, sleep...

Laughing, winking and shaking her fingers at the green patch, Varka steals up to the cradle and bends down toward the baby. having smothered the baby, she quickly lies down on the floor, laughing from joy, that she can now sleep, and after a minute, she is already asleep as soundly,