and had known no trouble
till he was twenty, when his stern harsh father, anxious to train
him to work, and afraid he would be spoiled at home, had sent him
to a carrier's to work as a hired labourer. Styopka was the only
one who said nothing, but from his beardless face it was evident
that his life had been a much better one in the past.

Thinking of his father, Dymov frowned and left off eating. Sullenly
from under his brows he looked round at his companions and his eye
rested upon Yegorushka.

"You heathen, take off your cap," he said rudely. "You can't eat
with your cap on, and you a gentleman too!"

Yegorushka took off his hat and did not say a word, but the stew
lost all savour for him, and he did not hear Panteley and Vassya
intervening on his behalf. A feeling of anger with the insulting
fellow was rankling oppressively in his breast, and he made up his
mind that he would do him some injury, whatever it cost him.

After dinner everyone sauntered to the waggons and lay down in the
shade.

"Are we going to start soon, grandfather?" Yegorushka asked Panteley.

"In God's good time we shall set off. There's no starting yet; it
is too hot. . . . O Lord, Thy will be done. Holy Mother. . . Lie
down, little lad."

Soon there was a sound of snoring from under the waggons. Yegorushka
meant to go back to the village, but on consideration, yawned and
lay down by the old man.

VI

The waggons remained by the river the whole day, and set off again
when the sun was setting.

Yegorushka was lying on the bales again; the waggon creaked softly
and swayed from side to side. Panteley walked below, stamping his
feet, slapping himself on his thighs and muttering. The air was
full of the churring music of the steppes, as it had been the day
before.

Yegorushka lay on his back, and, putting his hands under his head,
gazed upwards at the sky. He watched the glow of sunset kindle,
then fade away; guardian angels covering the horizon with their
gold wings disposed themselves to slumber. The day had passed
peacefully; the quiet peaceful night had come, and they could stay
tranquilly at home in heaven. . . . Yegorushka saw the sky by degrees
grow dark and the mist fall over the earth--saw the stars light
up, one after the other. . . .

When you gaze a long while fixedly at the deep sky thoughts and
feelings for some reason merge in a sense of loneliness. One begins
to feel hopelessly solitary, and everything one used to lo