performing a conjuring trick, the old
man continued to sit with his hands stretched over the embers. By this
time his nose had swollen over the bridge, and bruises risen under his
eyes which tended to obscure his vision. Indeed, as he sat there, sat
mouthing with dark, bestreaked lips under a covering of hoary beard and
moustache, I found that his bloodstained, disfigured, wrinkled, as it
were "antique" face reminded me more than ever of those of great
sinners of ancient times who abandoned this world for the forest and
the desert.
"I have seen many proud folk," he continued with a shake of his hatless
head and its sparse hairs. "A fire may burn up quickly, and continue to
burn fiercely, yet, like these embers, become turned to ashes, and so
lie smouldering till dawn. Young man, there you have something to think
of. Nor are they merely my words. They are the words of the Holy Gospel
itself."
Ever descending, ever weighing more heavily upon us, the night was as
black and hot and stifling as the previous one had been, albeit as
kindly as a mother. Still the two fires on the opposite bank of the
rivulet were aflame, and sending hot blasts of vapour across a seeming
brook of gold.
Folding his arms upon his breast, the old man tucked the palms of his
hands into his armpits, and settled himself more comfortably.
Nevertheless, when I made as though to add more twigs and shavings to
the embers he exclaimed imperiously:
"There is no need for that."
"Why is there not?"
"Because that would cause the fire to be seen, and bring some of those
men over here."
Again, as he kicked away some boughs which I had just broken up, he
repeated:
"There is no need for that, I tell you."
Presently, there approached us through the shimmering fire light on the
opposite bank two carpenters with boxes on their backs, and axes in
their hands.
"Are all the rest of our men gone?" inquired the foreman of the
newcomers.
"Yes," replied one of them, a tall man with a drooping moustache and no
beard.
"Well, 'shun evil, and good will result.'"
"Aye, and we likewise wish to depart."
"But a task ought not to be left unfinished. At dinner-time I sent
Olesha to say that none of those fellows had better be released from
work; but released they have been, and now the result is apparent!
Presently, when they have drunk a little more of their poison, they
will fire the barraque."
Every time that the first of the two carpenters in
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