He half shut his eyes, plucked sharply at the stalk, and the
flower remained in his hand. All became still. Upon a stump sat
Basavriuk, all blue like a corpse. He moved not so much as a finger.
His eyes were immovably fixed on something visible to him alone: his
mouth was half open and speechless. All about, nothing stirred. Ugh!
it was horrible!--But then a whistle was heard, which made Petro's
heart grow cold within him; and it seemed to him that the grass
whispered, and the flowers began to talk among themselves in delicate
voices, like little silver bells; the trees rustled in waving
contention;--Basavriuk's face suddenly became full of life and his
eyes sparkled. "The witch has just returned," he muttered between his
teeth. "See here, Petro: a beauty will stand before you in a moment;
do whatever she commands; if not--you are lost for ever." Then he
parted the thorn-bush with a knotty stick, and before him stood a tiny
izba, on chicken's legs, as they say. Basavriuk smote it with his
fist, and the wall trembled. A large black dog ran out to meet them,
and with a whine, transforming itself into a cat, flew straight at his
eyes. "Don't be angry, don't be angry, you old Satan!" said Basavriuk,
employing such words as would have made a good man stop his ears.
Behold, instead of a cat, an old woman with a face wrinkled like a
baked apple, and all bent into a bow: her nose and chin were like a
pair of nut-crackers. "A stunning beauty!" thought Petro; and cold
chills ran down his back. The witch tore the flower from his hand,
bent over, and muttered over it for a long time, sprinkling it with
some kind of water. Sparks flew from her mouth, froth appeared on her
lips.

"Throw it away," she said, giving it back to Petro.

Petro threw it, and what wonder was this? the flower did not fall
straight to the earth, but for a long while twinkled like a fiery ball
through the darkness, and swam through the air like a boat: at last it
began to sink lower, and fell so far away, that the little star,
hardly larger than a poppy-seed, was barely visible. "Here!" croaked
the old woman, in a dull voice: and Basavriuk, giving him a spade,
said, "Dig here, Petro: here you will find more gold than you or Korzh
ever dreamed of."

Petro spat on his hands, seized the spade, applied his foot, and
turned up the earth, a second, a third, a fourth time.... There was
something hard: the spade clinked, and would go no farther. Then his
eyes bega