lks the woman from Riazan, in company with the young
fellow of the bloated features. He is downcast of mien, and at length
mutters something which I cannot catch, but in answer to which she
tosses her head, and says in a distinct, maternal tone:

"You are too young to associate with such brutes."

The bell of the church is slowly beating, and from the huts there keep
coming neat old men and women who make the hitherto deserted street
assume a brisk appearance, and the squat huts take on a welcoming air.

In a resonant, girlish voice there meets our ears:

"Ma-am! Ma-amka! Where is the key of the green box? I want my ribands!"

While in answer to the bell's summons, the oxen low a deep echo.

The wind has fallen, but reddish clouds still are gliding over the
hamlet, and the mountain peaks blushing until they seem, thawing, to be
sending streams of golden, liquid fire on to the steppes, where, as
though cast in stone, a stork, standing on one leg, is listening,
seemingly, to the rustling of the heat-exhausted herbage.

* * * * *

In the forecourt of the Ataman's hut we are deprived of our passports,
while two of our number, found to be without such documents, are led
away to a night's lodging in a dark storehouse in a corner of the
premises. Everything is executed quietly enough, and without the least
fuss, purely as a matter of routine; yet Konev mutters, as dejectedly
he contemplates the darkening sky:

"What a surprising thing, to be sure!"

"What is?"

"A passport. Surely a decent, peaceable man ought to be able to travel
WITHOUT a passport? So long as he be harmless, let him--"

"You are not harmless," with angry emphasis the woman from Riazan
interposes.

Konev closes his eyes with a smile, and says nothing more.

Almost until the vigil service is over are we kept kicking our heels
about that forecourt, like sheep in a slaughter-house. Then Konev,
myself, the two women, and the fat-faced young fellow are led away
towards the outskirts of the village, and allotted an empty hut with
broken-down walls and a cracked window.

"No going out will be permitted," says the Cossack who has conducted us
thither. "Else you will be arrested."

"Then give us a morsel of bread," Konev says with a stammer. "Have you
done any work here?" the Cossack inquires.

"Yes--a little."

"For me?"

"No. It did not so happen."

"When it does so happen I will give you some bread."

And like a