the Bear's ravine."

I do not believe that chickens await the hour when the woman brings
their corn, with as much anxiety as Petrus awaited the evening. And,
in fact, he looked to see whether the shadows of the trees were not
lengthening, if the sun were not turning red towards setting; and, the
longer he watched, the more impatient he grew. How long it was!
Evidently, God's day had lost its end somewhere. And now the sun is
gone. The sky is red only on one side, and it is already growing dark.
It grows colder in the fields. It gets dusky, and more dusky, and at
last quite dark. At last! With heart almost bursting from his bosom,
he set out on his way, and cautiously descended through the dense
woods into the deep hollow called the Bear's ravine. Basavriuk was
already waiting there. It was so dark, that you could not see a yard
before you. Hand in hand they penetrated the thin marsh, clinging to
the luxuriant thorn-bushes, and stumbling at almost every step. At
last they reached an open spot. Petro looked about him: he had never
chanced to come there before. Here Basavriuk halted.

"Do you see, before you stand three hillocks? There are a great many
sorts of flowers upon them. But may some power keep you from plucking
even one of them. But as soon as the fern blossoms, seize it, and look
not round, no matter what may seem to be going on behind thee."

Petro wanted to ask--and behold, he was no longer there. He approached
the three hillocks--where were the flowers? He saw nothing. The wild
steppe-grass darkled around, and stifled everything in its luxuriance.
But the lightning flashed; and before him stood a whole bed of
flowers, all wonderful, all strange: and there were also the simple
fronds of fern. Petro doubted his senses, and stood thoughtfully
before them, with both hands upon his sides.

"What prodigy is this? one can see these weeds ten times in a day:
what marvel is there about them? was not devil's-face laughing at me?"

Behold! the tiny flower-bud crimsons, and moves as though alive. It is
a marvel, in truth. It moves, and grows larger and larger, and flashes
like a burning coal. The tiny star flashes up, something bursts
softly, and the flower opens before his eyes like a flame, lighting
the others about it. "Now is the time," thought Petro, and extended
his hand. He sees hundreds of shaggy hands reach from behind him, also
for the flower; and there is a running about from place to place, in
the rear.