but he will blind their eyes so that they fall upon one another. They will put him in prison, for example; he will ask for a little water to drink in a bowl; they will bring him the bowl, and he will plunge into it and vanish from their sight. They will put chains on him, but he will only clap his hands—they will fall off him. So this Trishka will go through villages and towns; and this Trishka will be a wily man; he will lead astray Christ’s people … and they will be able to do nothing to him…. He will be such a marvellous, wily man.’

‘Well, then,’ continued Pavel, in his deliberate voice, ‘that’s what he ‘s like. And so they expected him in our parts. The old men declared that directly the heavenly portent began, Trishka would come. So the heavenly portent began. All the people were scattered over the street, in the fields, waiting to see what would happen. Our place, you know, is open country. They look; and suddenly down the mountain-side from the big village comes a man of some sort; such a strange man, with such a wonderful head … that all scream: «Oy, Trishka is coming! Oy, Trishka is coming!» and all run in all directions! Our elder crawled into a ditch; his wife stumbled on the door-board and screamed with all her might; she terrified her yard-dog, so that he broke away from his chain and over the hedge and into the forest; and Kuzka’s father, Dorofyitch, ran into the oats, lay down there, and began to cry like a quail. ‘Perhaps’ says he, ‘the Enemy, the Destroyer of Souls, will spare the birds, at least.’ So they were all in such a scare! But he that was coming was our cooper Vavila; he had bought himself a new pitcher, and had put the empty pitcher over his head.’

All the boys laughed; and again there was a silence for a while, as often happens when people are talking in the open air. I looked out into the solemn, majestic stillness of the night; the dewy freshness of late evening had been succeeded by the dry heat of midnight; the darkness still had long to lie in a soft curtain over the slumbering fields; there was still a long while left before the first whisperings, the first dewdrops of dawn. There was no moon in the heavens; it rose late at that time. Countless golden stars, twinkling in rivalry, seemed all running softly towards the Milky Way, and truly, looking at them, you were almost conscious of the whirling, never—resting motion of the earth…. A strange, harsh, painful cry, sounded twice together over the river, and a few moments later, was repeated farther down….

Kostya shuddered. ‘What was that?’

‘That was a heron’s cry,’ replied Pavel tranquilly.

‘A heron,’ repeated Kostya…. ‘And what was it, Pavlusha, I heard yesterday evening,’ he added, after a short pause; ‘you perhaps will know.’

‘What did you hear?’

‘I will tell you what I heard. I was going from Stony Ridge to Shashkino; I went first through our walnut wood, and then passed by a little pool—you know where there’s a sharp turn down to the ravine— there is a water-pit there, you know; it is quite overgrown with reeds; so I went near this pit, brothers, and suddenly from this came a sound of some one groaning, and piteously, so piteously; oo-oo, oo-oo! I was in such a fright, my brothers; it was late, and the voice was so miserable. I felt as if I should cry myself…. What could that have been, eh?’

‘It was in that pit the thieves drowned Akim the forester, last summer,’ observed Pavel; ‘so perhaps it was his soul lamenting.’

‘Oh, dear, really, brothers,’ replied Kostya, opening wide his eyes, which were round enough before, ‘I did not know they had drowned Akim in that pit. Shouldn’t I have been frightened if I’d known!’

‘But they say there are little, tiny frogs,’ continued Pavel, ‘who cry piteously like that.’

‘Frogs? Oh, no, it was not frogs, certainly not. (A heron again uttered a cry above the river.) Ugh, there it is!’ Kostya cried involuntarily; ‘it is just like a wood-spirit shrieking.’

‘The wood-spirit does not shriek; it is dumb,’ put in Ilyusha; ‘it only claps its hands and rattles.’

‘And have you seen it then, the wood-spirit?’ Fedya asked him ironically.

‘No, I have not seen it, and God preserve me from seeing it; but others have seen it. Why, one day it misled a peasant in our parts, and led him through the woods and all in a circle in one field…. He scarcely got home till daylight.’

‘Well, and did he see it?’

‘Yes. He says it was a big, big creature, dark, wrapped up, just like a tree; you could not make it out well; it seemed to hide away from the moon, and kept staring and staring with its great eyes, and winking and winking with them….’

‘Ugh!’ exclaimed Fedya with a slight shiver, and a shrug of the shoulders; ‘pfoo.’

‘And how does such an unclean brood come to exist in the world?’ said

Pavel; ‘it’s a wonder.’

‘Don’t speak ill of it; take care, it will hear you,’ said Ilyusha.

Again there was a silence.

‘Look, look, brothers,’ suddenly came Vanya’s childish voice; ‘look at

God’s little stars; they are swarming like bees!’

He put his fresh little face out from under his rug, leaned on his little fist, and slowly lifted up his large soft eyes. The eyes of all the boys were raised to the sky, and they were not lowered quickly.

‘Well, Vanya,’ began Fedya caressingly, ‘is your sister Anyutka well?’

‘Yes, she is very well,’ replied Vanya with a slight lisp.

‘You ask her, why doesn’t she come to see us?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You tell her to come.’

‘Very well.’

‘Tell her I have a present for her.’

‘And a present for me too?’

‘Yes, you too.’

Vanya sighed.

‘No; I don’t want one. Better give it to her; she is so kind to us at home.’

And Vanya laid his head down again on the ground. Pavel got up and took the empty pot in his hand.

‘Where are you going?’ Fedya asked him.

‘To the river, to get water; I want some water to drink.’

The dogs got up and followed him.

‘Take care you don’t fall into the river!’ Ilyusha cried after him.

‘Why should he fall in?’ said Fedya. ‘He will be careful.’

‘Yes, he will be careful. But all kinds of things happen; he will stoop over, perhaps, to draw the water, and the water-spirit will clutch him by the hand, and drag him to him. Then they will say, «The boy fell into the water.» … Fell in, indeed! … «There, he has crept in among the reeds,» he added, listening.

The reeds certainly ‘shished,’ as they call it among us, as they were parted.

‘But is it true,’ asked Kostya, ‘that crazy Akulina has been mad ever since she fell into the water?’

‘Yes, ever since…. How dreadful she is now! But they say she was a beauty before then. The water-spirit bewitched her. I suppose he did not expect they would get her out so soon. So down there at the bottom he bewitched her.’

(I had met this Akulina more than once. Covered with rags, fearfully thin, with face as black as a coal, blear-eyed and for ever grinning, she would stay whole hours in one place in the road, stamping with her feet, pressing her fleshless hands to her breast, and slowly shifting from one leg to the other, like a wild beast in a cage. She understood nothing that was said to her, and only chuckled spasmodically from time to time.)

‘But they say,’ continued Kostya, ‘that Akulina threw herself into the river because her lover had deceived her.’

‘Yes, that was it.’

‘And do you remember Vasya? added Kostya, mournfully.

‘What Vasya?’ asked Fedya.

‘Why, the one who was drowned,’ replied Kostya,’ in this very river. Ah, what a boy he was! What a boy he was! His mother, Feklista, how she loved him, her Vasya! And she seemed to have a foreboding, Feklista did, that harm would come to him from the water. Sometimes, when Vasya went with us boys in the summer to bathe in the river, she used to be trembling all over. The other women did not mind; they passed by with the pails, and went on, but Feklista put her pail down on the ground, and set to calling him, ‘Come back, come back, my little joy; come back, my darling!’ And no one knows how he was drowned. He was playing on the bank, and his mother was there haymaking; suddenly she hears, as though some one was blowing bubbles through the water, and behold! there was only Vasya’s little cap to be seen swimming on the water. You know since then Feklista has not been right in her mind: she goes and lies down at the place where he was drowned; she lies down, brothers, and sings a song—you remember Vasya was always singing a song like that—so she sings it too, and weeps and weeps, and bitterly rails against God.’

‘Here is Pavlusha coming,’ said Fedya.

Pavel came up to the fire with a full pot in his hand.

‘Boys,’ he began, after a short silence, ‘something bad happened.’

‘Oh, what?’ asked Kostya hurriedly.

‘I heard Vasya’s voice.’

They all seemed to shudder.

‘What do you mean? what do you mean?’ stammered Kostya.

‘I don’t know. Only I went to stoop down to the water; suddenly I hear my name called in Vasya’s voice, as though it came from below water: «Pavlusha, Pavlusha, come here.» I came away. But I fetched the water, though.’

‘Ah,