ke a child from the
Foundling Hospital and bring it up on the bottle. They give me a rouble
and a half a month."

"Oh...."

Again a silence. From the strip that had been reaped floated a soft song
which broke off at the very beginning. It was too hot to sing.

"They say you have put up a new hut for Akulina," said Pelagea.

Yegor did not speak.

"So she is dear to you...."

"It's your luck, it's fate!" said the huntsman, stretching. "You must
put up with it, poor thing. But good-bye, I've been chattering long
enough.... I must be at Boltovo by the evening."

Yegor rose, stretched himself, and slung his gun over his shoulder;
Pelagea got up.

"And when are you coming to the village?" she asked softly.

"I have no reason to, I shall never come sober, and you have little to
gain from me drunk; I am spiteful when I am drunk. Good-bye!"

"Good-bye, Yegor Vlassitch."

Yegor put his cap on t he back of his head and, clicking to his dog,
went on his way. Pelagea stood still looking after him.... She saw his
moving shoulder-blades, his jaunty cap, his lazy, careless step, and her
eyes were full of sadness and tender affection.... Her gaze flitted over
her husband's tall, lean figure and caressed and fondled it.... He, as
though he felt that gaze, stopped and looked round.... He did not speak,
but from his face, from his shrugged shoulders, Pelagea could see that
he wanted to say something to her. She went up to him timidly and looked
at him with imploring eyes.

"Take it," he said, turning round.

He gave her a crumpled rouble note and walked quickly away.

"Good-bye, Yegor Vlassitch," she said, mechanically taking the rouble.

He walked by a long road, straight as a taut strap. She, pale and
motionless as a statue, stood, her eyes seizing every step he took. But
the red of his shirt melted into the dark colour of his trousers, his
step could not be seen, and the dog could not be distinguished from the
boots. Nothing could be seen but the cap, and... suddenly Yegor turned
off sharply into the clearing and the cap vanished in the greenness.

"Good-bye, Yegor Vlassitch," whispered Pelagea, and she stood on tiptoe
to see the white cap once more.

HAPPINESS

A FLOCK of sheep was spending the night on the broad steppe road that
is called the great highway. Two shepherds were guarding it. One, a
toothless old man of eighty, with a tremulous face, was lying on his
stomach at the very edge of the road, leani