来自：A Sportsman's Sketches
You would have given the first, the eldest of them all, Fedya, about fourteen years. He was a slender boy, with handsome and delicate, somewhat small features, curly blond hair, light eyes and a constant half-cheerful, half-distracted smile. He belonged, by all signs, to a wealthy family and had ridden out to the fields not from necessity, but for amusement. He wore a colorful cotton shirt with a yellow border; a small new peasant coat, thrown over his shoulders, barely held on his narrow little shoulders; a comb hung from his light blue belt. His boots with low tops were truly his boots—not his father's. The second boy, Pavlusha, had disheveled black hair, gray eyes, broad cheekbones, a pale, pockmarked face, a large but regular mouth, an enormous head, as they say, like a beer kettle, and a squat, ungainly body. The lad was no beauty—what's to be said!—but I still liked him: he looked very intelligent and direct, and there was strength in his voice. He could not boast of his clothing: it consisted entirely of a simple homespun shirt and patched trousers. The face of the third, Ilyusha, was rather unremarkable: hook-nosed, elongated, myopic, it expressed a kind of dull, sickly anxiety; his compressed lips did not move, his drawn brows did not part—he seemed to be constantly squinting from the fire. His yellow, almost white hair stuck up in sharp tufts from under a low felt cap, which he kept pushing down over his ears with both hands. He wore new bast shoes and leg wrappings; a thick rope, wound three times around his waist, carefully tightened his neat black coat. Both he and Pavlusha appeared to be no more than twelve years old. The fourth, Kostya, a boy of about ten, aroused my curiosity with his thoughtful and sad gaze. His whole face was small, thin, freckled, pointed at the bottom like a squirrel's; his lips could barely be distinguished; but his large, black eyes, glistening with a liquid shine, made a strange impression: they seemed to want to express something for which there were no words in language—in his language at least. He was of small stature, frail build, and dressed rather poorly. The last one, Vanya, I did not notice at first: he lay on the ground, quietly nestled under an angular mat, and only occasionally poked out his light brown curly head from beneath it. This boy was only about seven years old. And so, I lay under a bush to the side and glanced at the boys. A small pot hung over one of the fires; potatoes were boiling in it. Pavlusha watched over it and, kneeling, poked a stick into the boiling water. Fedya lay propped on his elbow with the skirts of his coat spread out. Ilyusha sat next to Kostya, still squinting intently. Kostya lowered his head slightly and looked somewhere into the distance. Vanya did not stir under his mat. I pretended to be sleeping. Gradually the boys began talking again. At first they chatted about this and that, about tomorrow's work, about horses; but suddenly Fedya turned to Ilyusha and, as if resuming an interrupted conversation, asked him: "Well, and so you really saw the house spirit?" "No, I didn't see him, and you can't see him," answered Ilyusha in a hoarse and weak voice, the sound of which corresponded perfectly to the expression of his face, "but I heard him... And I wasn't the only one." "Where does he live at your place?" asked Pavlusha. "In the old rolling room." ["Rolling room" or "scooping room" is what they call the building at paper mills where they scoop out paper in vats. It's located right at the dam, under the wheel. (Author's note)] "Do you work at the mill?" "Of course we do. My brother Avdyushka and I work as glazers." ["Glazers" smooth and scrape paper. (Author's note)] "Well fancy that—mill workers!..." "So how did you hear him?" asked Fedya. "Here's how. My brother Avdyushka and I had to stay there, along with Fyodor Mikheyevsky, and Ivashka the Cross-eyed, and another Ivashka from Red Hills, and Ivashka Sukhorukov too, and there were other boys there; there were about ten of us boys in all—a whole shift; but we had to spend the night in the rolling room, that is, not that we had to exactly, but Nazarov, the overseer, forbade us; he says: 'Why should you boys drag yourselves home; there's lots of work tomorrow, so you boys don't go home.' So we stayed and lay down all together, and Avdyushka started saying, like, 'Well boys, what if the house spirit comes?'... And no sooner had he, Avdey that is, spoken these words, than suddenly someone started walking above our heads; but we were lying below, and he was walking above, by the wheel. We hear him: he's walking, the boards under him are bending and creaking; then he passed over our heads; the water suddenly started making noise over the wheel, making noise; the wheel started knocking, knocking, and turning; but the sluice gates at the race were lowered. We're amazed: who raised them so that the water started flowing; however, the wheel turned and turned, then stopped. Then he went to the door upstairs and started coming down the stairs, and you could tell he wasn't hurrying; the steps under him were actually groaning... Well, he came to our door, waited, waited—the door suddenly flew wide open. We were frightened, we look—nothing... Suddenly, look, at one vat the mold started moving, lifted up, dipped, moved about, moved about in the air, as if someone was rinsing it, and then back in place. Then at another vat a hook came off a nail and back on the nail; then it was as if someone went to the door and suddenly started coughing, choking, like some sheep, and so loudly... How frightened we were then! We all fell in a heap, crawled under each other... How scared we were at that moment!" "Well I never!" said Pavel. "Why did he cough?" "Don't know; maybe from the dampness." Everyone fell silent. "Are the potatoes cooked?" asked Fedya. Pavlusha felt them. "No, still hard... Listen, it splashed," he added, turning his face toward the river, "must be a pike... And there's a little star falling." "No, I'll tell you something, brothers," Kostya began in a thin voice, "listen, the other day my father told me this, and I was there." "Well, we're listening," said Fedya with a patronizing air. "You know Gavrila, the village carpenter?" "Yes, we know him." "And do you know why he's always so cheerless, always silent, you know? Here's why he's so cheerless. He went once, my father was saying—he went, my brothers, to the forest for nuts. So he went to the forest for nuts and got lost; went—God knows where he went. He walked and walked, brothers—no! he can't find the road; and already night was falling. So he sat down under a tree; 'I'll wait,' he says, 'till morning'—he sat down and dozed off. So he dozed off and suddenly hears someone calling him. He looks—nobody. He dozed off again—they call again. He looks again: and before him on a branch sits a rusalka, swaying and calling him to her, and she's dying of laughter, laughing... And the moon is shining brightly, so brightly, the moon is shining clearly—everything, my brothers, is visible. So she's calling him, and she herself is all so bright, so white sitting on the branch, like some roach or minnow—or there's also carp that are so whitish, silvery... Gavrila the carpenter froze, my brothers, but she just kept laughing and calling him to her with her hand like this. Gavrila was about to get up, to obey the rusalka, my brothers, but the Lord must have put sense in him: he did make the sign of the cross over himself... And how hard it was for him to make that cross, my brothers; he says his hand was just like stone, wouldn't move... Oh you wretch!... So when he made the cross, my brothers, the rusalka stopped laughing, and suddenly she started crying... She's crying, my brothers, wiping her eyes with her hair, and her hair is green, like hemp. So Gavrila looked and looked at her, then started asking her: 'Why are you crying, forest creature?' And the rusalka says to him: 'If you hadn't crossed yourself, man, you would have lived with me in merriment till the end of your days; but I'm crying, I'm grieving because you crossed yourself; and not only will I grieve: you will grieve too till the end of your days.' Then she, my brothers, disappeared, and Gavrila immediately understood how to get out of the forest, that is... But since then he always goes about cheerless." "Well!" said Fedya after a short silence, "but how can such forest uncleanness spoil a Christian soul—he didn't obey her?" "There you have it!" said Kostya. "And Gavrila said that her voice, he says, was so thin, plaintive, like a toad's." "Your father told this himself?" continued Fedya. "Himself. I was lying on the shelf, heard everything." "A strange thing! Why should he be cheerless?... Well, she must have liked him, since she called him." "Yes, liked him!" Ilyusha picked up. "Of course! She wanted to tickle him to death, that's what she wanted. That's their business, those rusalkas." "And there must be rusalkas here too," Fedya remarked. "No," answered Kostya, "this is a clean place, open. Only—the river's close." Everyone fell silent. Suddenly, somewhere in the distance, a long, ringing, almost moaning sound rang out, one of those incomprehensible night sounds that sometimes arise in the midst of deep silence, rise up, hang in the air and slowly spread at last, as if dying away. You listen—and it's as if there's nothing, but it rings. It seemed as if someone had cried out for a long, long time under the very horizon, someone else seemed to answer him in the forest with thin, sharp laughter, and a weak, hissing whistle rushed along the river. The boys exchanged glances, shuddered... "The sign of the cross be with us!" whispered Ilya. "Eh, you crows!" shouted Pavel. "What are you scared of? Look, the potatoes are done." (Everyone moved closer to the pot and began eating the steaming potatoes; only Vanya didn't stir.) "What about you?" said Pavel. But he didn't come out from under his mat. The pot was soon completely empty. "Have you heard, boys," Ilyusha began, "what happened the other day at our Varnavitsy?" "At the dam?" asked Fedya. "Yes, yes, at the dam, at the broken one. That's an unclean place, so unclean, and so desolate. All around are ravines, gullies, and in the gullies all sorts of snakes live." "Well, what happened? Tell us..." "Here's what happened. Maybe you don't know, Fedya, but there's a drowned man buried there; and he drowned long, long ago, when the pond was still deep; but his grave is still visible, though barely visible: just a little mound... So the other day, the steward calls the dog-keeper Ermil; says: 'Go to the post, Ermil.' Ermil always goes to the post for us; he's killed all his dogs—they don't live with him for some reason, never have lived, but he's a good dog-keeper, knows his stuff. So Ermil went for the post and lingered in town, but when he's riding back he's already drunk. And it's night, and a bright night: the moon is shining... So Ermil is riding across the dam: that's how his road went. He's riding along like this, Ermil the dog-keeper, and sees: at the drowned man's grave a lamb, a white one, curly, pretty, is walking about. So Ermil thinks: 'I'll take him—why should he go to waste,' and he got down and took him in his arms... But the lamb—nothing. So Ermil goes to the horse, and the horse shies away from him, snorts, shakes its head; however he calmed her down, got on her with the lamb and rode on again: holding the lamb in front of him. He looks at it, and the lamb looks him right in the eyes. Ermil the dog-keeper got uneasy: 'I don't remember,' he thinks, 'rams looking people in the eyes like that'; however, nothing; he started stroking its wool like this—says: 'Baa, baa!' And the ram suddenly bares its teeth and says to him too: 'Baa, baa!...' No sooner had the storyteller uttered this last word than suddenly both dogs jumped up at once, rushed away from the fire with convulsive barking and disappeared into the darkness. All the boys were frightened. Vanya jumped out from under his mat. Pavel rushed after the dogs with a shout. Their barking quickly receded... The anxious running of the alarmed herd could be heard. Pavel was shouting loudly: "Gray! Zhuchka!..." In a few moments the barking stopped; Pavel's voice came from far away already... A little more time passed; the boys exchanged puzzled glances, as if waiting for what would happen... Suddenly the trampling of a galloping horse rang out; it stopped abruptly right at the fire, and, clutching the mane, Pavel nimbly jumped off. Both dogs also leaped into the circle of light and immediately sat down, tongues hanging out. "What was it? What happened?" the boys asked. "Nothing," Pavel answered, waving his hand at the horse, "the dogs just scented something. I thought it was a wolf," he added in an indifferent voice, breathing rapidly with his whole chest. I involuntarily admired Pavlusha. He was very handsome at that moment. His plain face, animated by the quick ride, glowed with bold daring and firm resolve. Without even a stick in his hand, at night, he had galloped alone at a wolf without the slightest hesitation... "What a splendid boy!" I thought, looking at him. "Did you see them, the wolves?" asked the cowardly Kostya. "There are always plenty of them here," Pavel answered, "but they're only troublesome in winter." He settled down again before the fire. Sitting on the ground, he rested his hand on the shaggy neck of one of the dogs, and for a long time the delighted animal didn't turn its head, glancing sideways at Pavlusha with grateful pride. Vanya burrowed under the mat again. "What scary stories you've been telling us, Ilyushka," Fedya began, who, as the son of a wealthy peasant, had to be the leader (though he himself spoke little, as if afraid of lowering his dignity). "And the devils made the dogs bark... But it's true, I've heard, that's an unclean place, your place." "Varnavitsy?... I'll say! what an unclean place! They say they've seen the old master there more than once—the late master. He walks, they say, in a long-skirted caftan and keeps groaning like this, looking for something on the ground. Once grandfather Trofimych met him: 'What,' he says, 'sir, Ivan Ivanovich, are you looking for on the ground?'" "He asked him?" interrupted the astonished Fedya. "Yes, he asked." "Well, Trofimych is brave after that... Well, and what did he say?" "'Bursting herb,' he says, 'I'm looking for.'—And he speaks so hollowly, hollowly:—'Bursting herb.'—'And what do you need bursting herb for, sir Ivan Ivanovich?'—'The grave,' he says, 'presses, Trofimych: I want out, out...'" "Well fancy that!" Fedya remarked, "he must not have lived long enough." "What a wonder!" Kostya said. "I thought you could only see the dead on Parents' Saturday." "You can see the dead at any hour," Ilyusha picked up with confidence, who, as far as I could tell, knew all the village superstitions better than the others... "But on Parents' Saturday you can see the living one, whose turn it is to die that year, that is. You just have to sit on the church porch at night and keep looking at the road. Those who are to die that year will pass by you on the road. Last year our woman Ulyana went to the porch." "Well, and did she see anyone?" Kostya asked with curiosity. "Of course. First she sat for a long, long time, didn't see or hear anyone... only it was like a dog barking somewhere... Suddenly she looks: a boy in just a shirt is walking down the path. She looked closer—Ivashka Fedoseyev was walking..." "The one who died in the spring?" Fedya interrupted. "The very one. He's walking and doesn't lift his head... And Ulyana recognized him... But then she looks: a woman is walking. She peered and peered—oh Lord!—she herself is walking down the road, Ulyana herself." "Really herself?" asked Fedya. "I swear, herself." "Well what of it, she hasn't died yet?" "But the year hasn't passed yet. And you look at her: what's keeping her soul in her body." Everyone fell silent again. Pavel threw a handful of dry twigs on the fire. They turned sharply black against the suddenly flaring flame, crackled, began to smoke and curl, lifting their scorched ends. The reflection of light struck out, trembling fitfully, in all directions, especially upward. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a white dove flew right into this reflection, circled fearfully in one place, bathed in the hot glow, and disappeared, wings ringing. "Must have strayed from home," Pavel remarked. "Now it will fly until it hits something, and wherever it hits, it will spend the night till dawn." "Well, Pavlusha," Kostya said, "wasn't that a righteous soul flying to heaven, eh?" Pavel threw another handful of twigs on the fire. "Maybe," he said at last. "Tell me, please, Pavlusha," Fedya began, "did you also see the heavenly portent in Shalamovo?" ["Portent" is what our peasants call a solar eclipse. (Author's note)] "When the sun disappeared? Of course." "I suppose you were frightened too?" "Not just us. Our master, though he explained to us beforehand that there would be a portent, when it got dark, they say he got so scared himself. And in the servants' quarters the cook-woman, as soon as it got dark, listen to this, took the oven fork and broke all the pots in the stove: 'Who's going to eat now,' she says, 'the end of the world has come.' So the cabbage soup just ran out. And in our village such rumors were going around, brother, that white wolves would run across the earth, would eat people, a bird of prey would fly, or they'd even see Trishka himself." ["Trishka" probably echoes the legend of the antichrist. (Author's note)] "What's this Trishka?" asked Kostya. "You don't know?" Ilyusha picked up eagerly. "Well, brother, where are you from that you don't know Trishka? They really sit at home in your village, real stay-at-homes! Trishka—that will be such a remarkable man, who will come; and he will come when the last times arrive. And he will be such a remarkable man that you won't be able to catch him, and you won't be able to do anything to him: he'll be such a remarkable man. The peasants will want to catch him, for example; they'll go out after him with clubs, surround him, but he'll pull the wool over their eyes—he'll pull the wool over their eyes so that they'll beat each other up. They'll put him in jail, for example—he'll ask for water to drink in a dipper: they'll bring him a dipper, and he'll dive into it and vanish without a trace. They'll put chains on him, but he'll just clap his hands—and they'll fall right off him. Well, and this Trishka will walk through villages and towns; and this Trishka, a cunning man, will tempt the Christian people... well, but you won't be able to do anything to him... That's how remarkable, how cunning a man he'll be." "Well yes," Pavel continued in his unhurried voice, "that's him. That's who they were expecting at our place. The old people said that as soon as the heavenly portent begins, Trishka will come. So it began. All the people poured out into the street, into the field, waiting for what would happen. And our place, you know, is high up, open. They look—suddenly from the settlement, down the hill, some person is coming, such a strange one, his head so remarkable... Everyone started shouting: 'Oh, Trishka is coming! oh, Trishka is coming!'—and everyone scattered! Our elder crawled into a ditch; the elder's wife got stuck in the gateway, screaming bloody murder, scared her own yard dog so much that it broke off the chain, over the fence, and into the forest; and Kuzka's father, Dorofeich, jumped into the oats, crouched down, and started crying like a quail: 'Maybe,' he says, 'the enemy, the soul-destroyer, will spare a bird at least.' That's how frightened everyone was!.. But the person walking was our cooper, Vavila: he'd bought himself a new tub and put the empty tub on his head." All the boys laughed and fell silent again for a moment, as often happens with people talking in the open air. I looked around: night stood solemn and majestic; the damp freshness of late evening had been replaced by midnight's dry warmth, and it would lie like a soft blanket over the sleeping fields for a long time yet; much time remained before the first babbling, before the first rustlings and whispers of morning, before the first dewdrops of dawn. There was no moon in the sky: it rose late at that time. Countless golden stars seemed to flow quietly, all twinkling in rivalry, in the direction of the Milky Way, and truly, looking at them, you seemed to feel dimly yourself the headlong, ceaseless course of the earth... A strange, sharp, painful cry rang out suddenly twice in succession over the river and, after a few moments, was repeated farther away... Kostya shuddered. "What was that?" "That's a heron crying," Pavel answered calmly. "A heron," Kostya repeated... "But what was it, Pavlusha, that I heard yesterday evening," he added, after pausing a bit, "maybe you know..." "What did you hear?" "Here's what I heard. I was walking from Stone Ridge to Shashkino; and I walked first through our hazel grove, then through the meadow—you know, where it comes out at the bend—there's a deep pool there, you know; it's all overgrown with reeds; so I was walking past this pool, my brothers, and suddenly from that pool someone groaned, and so pitifully, pitifully: oo... oo... oo! Such fear took hold of me, my brothers: it was late, and the voice was so sickly. I felt I could cry myself... What could that have been? eh?" "In that pool thieves drowned Akim the forester the year before last," Pavel remarked, "so maybe his soul is complaining." "Well, that could be it, my brothers," Kostya answered, widening his already enormous eyes... "I didn't know they drowned Akim in that pool: I would have been even more frightened." "And then, they say, there are such tiny frogs," Pavel continued, "that cry so pitifully." "Frogs? Well, no, those weren't frogs... what kind of..." (The heron cried out again over the river.) "Damn it!" Kostya said involuntarily, "like a wood-goblin crying." "A wood-goblin doesn't cry, he's mute," Ilyusha picked up, "he only claps his hands and rattles..." "Have you seen him, the wood-goblin?" Fedya interrupted mockingly. "No, I haven't seen him, and God save me from seeing him; but others have seen him. Just the other day he led one of our peasants astray: led him, led him through the forest, all around one clearing... He barely made it home by daylight." "Well, and did he see him?" "He saw him. Says he was so big, big, dark, wrapped up, like you couldn't make him out clearly behind a tree, like hiding from the moon, and staring, staring with those huge eyes, blinking them, blinking..." "Oh!" Fedya exclaimed, shuddering slightly and twitching his shoulders, "ugh!..." "And why does this filth breed in the world?" Pavel remarked. "Don't understand it, really!" "Don't curse, watch it, he'll hear," Ilya remarked. Silence fell again. "Look, look, boys," Vanya's childish voice suddenly rang out, "look at God's little stars—like bees swarming!" He stuck his fresh little face out from under the mat, propped himself on his fist and slowly raised his large calm eyes upward. The eyes of all the boys rose to the sky and didn't lower for some time. "Well, Vanya," Fedya said affectionately, "how's your sister Anyutka doing?" "She's well," Vanya answered, slightly lisping. "You tell her—why doesn't she come to see us?" "Don't know." "You tell her she should come." "I'll tell her." "You tell her I'll give her a treat." "And will you give me one?" "I'll give you one too." Vanya sighed. "Well, no, I don't need one. Give it to her instead: she's so kind, our girl." And Vanya laid his head on the ground again. Pavel stood up and took the empty pot in his hand. "Where are you going?" Fedya asked him. "To the river, to get some water: I want to drink." The dogs got up and followed him. "Watch you don't fall in the river!" Ilyusha called after him. "Why would he fall?" said Fedya, "he'll be careful." "Yes, he'll be careful. All sorts of things happen: he'll bend down, start scooping water, and the water-spirit will grab his hand and drag him to himself. Then they'll say: the boy fell into the water, they'll say... What kind of fell?.. There, he's gone into the reeds," he added, listening. The reeds were indeed "shurshing," as we say, parting. "Is it true," Kostya asked, "that Akulina the fool went mad after she'd been in the water?" "After that... Look at her now! But they say she used to be a beauty. The water-spirit spoiled her. Must not have expected they'd pull her out so soon. So he spoiled her there, at his place on the bottom." (I myself had met this Akulina more than once. Covered in rags, terribly thin, with a face black as coal, a clouded gaze and eternally bared teeth, she stamps for hours in one place, somewhere on the road, pressing her bony hands tightly to her chest and slowly swaying from foot to foot, like a wild beast in a cage. She understands nothing, whatever anyone says to her, and only occasionally laughs convulsively.) "They say," Kostya continued, "that Akulina threw herself in the river because her sweetheart deceived her." "That's exactly why." "And do you remember Vasya?" Kostya added sadly. "What Vasya?" asked Fedya. "The one who drowned," Kostya answered, "in this very river. Oh, what a boy he was! oh, what a boy! His mother, Feklista, how she loved him, Vasya! And it was like she sensed, Feklista, that his ruin would come from water. Sometimes Vasya would go with us, with the boys, in summer to swim in the river—she'd be all in a flutter. Other women don't care, they walk past with their washtubs, waddling along, but Feklista would put her washtub on the ground and start calling him: 'Come back,' she'd say, 'come back, my bright one! oh, come back, my falcon!' And how he drowned, the Lord only knows. He was playing on the bank, and his mother was right there, raking hay; suddenly she hears, like someone's blowing bubbles in the water—she looks, and only Vasya's cap is floating on the water. You know, since then Feklista hasn't been in her right mind: she'll come and lie down in the place where he drowned; she'll lie down, my brothers, and start a song—you remember, Vasya used to sing that song all the time—so she'll start that very one, and she cries, cries, bitterly complains to God..." "Here comes Pavlusha," Fedya said. Pavel came up to the fire with a full pot in his hand. "Well, boys," he began, after pausing, "things aren't good." "What is it?" Kostya asked hastily. "I heard Vasya's voice." Everyone shuddered. "What do you mean, what?" Kostya stammered. "I swear. As soon as I bent down to the water, I suddenly hear someone calling me in Vasya's voice and like from under the water: 'Pavlusha, oh Pavlusha!' I listen; and he calls again: 'Pavlusha, come here.' I moved away. But I did scoop some water." "Oh Lord! oh Lord!" the boys said, crossing themselves. "That was the water-spirit calling you, Pavel," Fedya added... "And we were just talking about him, about Vasya." "Oh, that's a bad omen," Ilyusha said deliberately. "Well, never mind, let it be!" Pavel said decisively and sat down again, "you can't escape your fate." The boys quieted down. It was evident that Pavel's words had made a deep impression on them. They began settling down before the fire, as if preparing to sleep. "What's that?" Kostya suddenly asked, raising his head. Pavel listened. "Those are sandpipers flying, whistling." "Where are they flying?" "To where, they say, there's no winter." "Is there really such a land?" "There is." "Far away?" "Far, far away, beyond the warm seas." Kostya sighed and closed his eyes. More than three hours had passed since I had joined the boys. The moon finally rose; I didn't notice it right away: it was so small and narrow. This moonless night seemed to be just as magnificent as before... But already many stars, still recently standing high in the sky, had inclined toward the dark edge of the earth; everything had completely quieted down around us, as everything usually quiets down only toward morning: everything slept a deep, motionless, pre-dawn sleep. The air no longer smelled so strongly—dampness seemed to spread through it again... Summer nights are short!.. The boys' conversation was dying down along with the fires... Even the dogs were dozing; the horses, as far as I could make out in the faintly glimmering, weakly flowing light of the stars, were also lying down with lowered heads... Sweet oblivion fell upon me; it passed into drowsiness. A fresh stream ran across my face. I opened my eyes: morning was beginning. Dawn wasn't yet flushing anywhere, but it was already growing white in the east. Everything became visible, though dimly visible, all around. The pale gray sky was brightening, growing cold, turning blue; the stars now flickered with weak light, now disappeared; the earth grew damp, leaves began to sweat, living sounds and voices began to be heard here and there, and a thin, early breeze was already wandering and fluttering over the earth. My body responded to it with a light, cheerful shiver. I quickly got up and approached the boys. They were all sleeping like the dead around the smoldering fire; only Pavel raised himself halfway and looked intently at me. I nodded to him and set off homeward along the smoking river. Before I had gone two versts, all around me across the wide wet meadow, and ahead, along the greening hills, from forest to forest, and behind along the long dusty road, along the sparkling, crimsoned bushes, and along the river, bashfully turning blue from under the thinning mist—there poured first scarlet, then red, golden streams of young, hot light... Everything stirred, awoke, began to sing, rustle, speak. Everywhere large drops of dew glowed like radiant diamonds; toward me, pure and clear, as if also washed by the morning coolness, came the sounds of a bell, and suddenly past me, driven by the familiar boys, rushed the rested herd... I must add with regret that Pavel died that same year. He did not drown: he was killed, falling from a horse. A pity, he was a splendid lad!
Biryuk
(From the cycle "A Sportsman's Sketches")