ted to go on
thinking, but the joy which beamed in his face prevented him. As
though he were not comfortable, he changed his attitude, laughed,
and again waved his hand. He was ashamed to share his happy thoughts
with strangers, but at the same time he had an irresistible longing
to communicate his joy.

"She has gone to Demidovo to see her mother," he said, blushing and
moving his gun. "She'll be back to-morrow. . . . She said she would
be back to dinner."

"And do you miss her?" said Dymov.

"Oh, Lord, yes; I should think so. We have only been married such
a little while, and she has gone away. . . . Eh! Oh, but she is a
tricky one, God strike me dead! She is such a fine, splendid girl,
such a one for laughing and singing, full of life and fire! When
she is there your brain is in a whirl, and now she is away I wander
about the steppe like a fool, as though I had lost something. I
have been walking since dinner."

Konstantin rubbed his eyes, looked at the fire and laughed.

"You love her, then, . . ." said Panteley.

"She is so fine and splendid," Konstantin repeated, not hearing
him; "such a housewife, clever and sensible. You wouldn't find
another like her among simple folk in the whole province. She has
gone away. . . . But she is missing me, I kno-ow! I know the little
magpie. She said she would be back to-morrow by dinner-time. . . .
And just think how queer!" Konstantin almost shouted, speaking a
note higher and shifting his position. "Now she loves me and is sad
without me, and yet she would not marry me."

"But eat," said Kiruha.

"She would not marry me," Konstantin went on, not heeding him. "I
have been struggling with her for three years! I saw her at the
Kalatchik fair; I fell madly in love with her, was ready to hang
myself. . . . I live at Rovno, she at Demidovo, more than twenty
miles apart, and there was nothing I could do. I sent match-makers
to her, and all she said was: 'I won't!' Ah, the magpie! I sent her
one thing and another, earrings and cakes, and twenty pounds of
honey--but still she said: 'I won't!' And there it was. If you
come to think of it, I was not a match for her! She was young and
lovely, full of fire, while I am old: I shall soon be thirty, and
a regular beauty, too; a fine beard like a goat's, a clear complexion
all covered with pimples--how could I be compared with her! The
only thing to be said is that we are well off, but then the Vahramenkys
are well off, too. They'v