At sunset, when he reached the end of the furrow

At sunset, when he reached the end of the furrow Davidod unharnessed the oxen
And untied the reins from their horns. He sat down on the grass edging the furrows, wiped the sweat from his brow with his jacket sleeve, rolled a cigarette with trembling hands and only then he realized how terribly tired he was . His back was aching, he had a queer, twitching sensation behind his knees and his hands shook as if he were an old man.
‘Shall we find the oxen again at dawn ? ‘he asked Varvara.
She stood facing him on the upturned soil. Her small feet in worn, overlarge shoes were sunk up to the ankle in the crumbling earth. Pushing the dusty grey kerchief back from her face, she answered.
‘Oh, we’ll find them: they won’t go far at night.
Davidod closed his eyes and smoked greedily. He wanted to avoid looking at the girl. But she stood ’beaming with a happy and weary smile, and said quietly.
‘You’ve worm me out and the oxen too. You don’t rest enough’
‘I’ve worn myself right out,’ he said grumpily.
‘You should take more rests. Daddy Kondrat seems to rest quite a lot, he gives the oxen a chance to breathe, yet he always ploughs more land than anyone else. You’ve worn yourself out because you’re not used to it…’She wanted to add,’ my dear, ’but took alarm at the thought and pressed her lips firmly together.
‘That’s true; I haven’t got used to it yet, ’he agreed.
From the book “Harvest on the Don” by Mikhail Sholokhov (translated from the Russian by H.C.Stevens)