a deep stream of water winding its way
under and through canes and bushy thickets, and interspersed with the
large, round leaves of the water-lilies, which we call "_nenufars_,"
and by the peasants are called "white flowers."

Beautiful was this spot, quiet, secluded, shady, even somewhat sombre
and solemn. The transparent stream of water wound its way between the
trees. The _nenufars_, touched by the light movement of the water,
swayed gently backward and forward, leaning toward each other as if
kissing. Above their broad leaves, lying like shields on the surface
of the water, swarmed indigo-colored insects with wide, translucent,
sibilant wings, so delicate and fragile that they are justly called
water-sprites. Black butterflies, with white-edged, mournful wings,
rested on the sharp, slender tops of the tamarack. On the dark turf
blossomed blue forget-me-nots. On the edge of the stream grew some
alder trees, and under the bushes peeped out heads of the
lily-of-the-valley, bluebells and honeysuckles. The white heads of the
_biedrzenica_ hung over the waters; the silvery threads of the
_strojka_ spread out upon the current of the stream and weaved
themselves into thin and long strands; besides--seclusion--a wild
spot, forgotten by men, peaceful, peopled only with the world of
birds, flowers and insects.

In such places generally dwell nymphs, _rusalki_, and other bad or
good forest sprites. Kasya, who was in advance, stood first on the
banks of the stream and looked upon the water in which was reflected
her graceful form. She verily appeared as one of those beautiful
forest spirits as they are seen sometimes by the woodsmen or lumber
men who float on their rafts down the rivers through the woods. She
had no covering upon her head, and the wind gently played with her
locks and ruffled her ray-like hair. Sunburned she was, blond-haired,
and her eyes, as blue as turquoise, were as laughing as her lips.
Besides, she was a divinely tall, slender, and fairy-like maiden. No
one could swear, if she was suddenly startled, that she would not jump
into the water--would not dissolve into mist--into rainbow rays--would
not turn quickly into a water-lily or _kalina_ tree, which, when
robbed of its flowers, remonstrates with a voice so human, yet
recalling the sigh of the forest:

"Don't touch me."

Kasya, bending over the water so that her tresses fell on her
shoulders, turned toward John and said:

"How shall we drink?"

"