or the village.

The following night, before daybreak, he stood on the outskirts of the
birch grove, not far from Sipiagin's garden. A little further on behind
the tangled branches of a nut-bush stood a peasant cart harnessed to
a pair of unbridled horses. Inside, under the seat of plaited rope, a
little grey old peasant was lying asleep on a bundle of hay, covered up
to the ears with an old patched coat. Nejdanov kept looking eagerly at
the road, at the clumps of laburnums at the bottom of the garden; the
still grey night lay around; the little stars did their best to outshine
one another and were lost in the vast expanse of sky. To the east the
rounded edges of the spreading clouds were tinged with a faint flush of
dawn. Suddenly Nejdanov trembled and became alert. Something squeaked
near by, the opening of a gate was heard; a tiny feminine creature,
wrapped up in a shawl with a bundle slung over her bare arm, walked
slowly out of the deep shadow of the laburnums into the dusty road,
and crossing over as if on tip-toe, turned towards the grove. Nejdanov
rushed towards her.

"Mariana?" he whispered.

"It's I!" came a soft reply from under the shawl.

"This way, come with me," Nejdanov responded, seizing her awkwardly by
the bare arm, holding the bundle.

She trembled as if with cold. He led her up to the cart and woke the
peasant. The latter jumped up quickly, instantly took his seat on the
box, put his arms into the coat sleeves, and seized the rope that served
as reins. The horses moved; he encouraged them cautiously in a voice
still hoarse from a heavy sleep. Nejdanov placed Mariana on the seat,
first spreading out his cloak for her to sit on, wrapped her feet in a
rug, as the hay was rather damp, and sitting down beside her, gave the
order to start. The peasant pulled the reins, the horses came out of
the grove, snorting and shaking themselves, and bumping and rattling its
small wheels the cart rolled out on to the road. Nejdanov had his
arm round Mariana's waist, while she, raising the shawl with her cold
fingers and turning her smiling face towards him, exclaimed: "How
beautifully fresh the air is, Aliosha!"

"Yes," the peasant replied, "there'll be a heavy dew!"

There was already such a heavy dew that the axles of the cart wheels as
they caught in the tall grass along the roadside shook off whole showers
of tiny drops and the grass looked silver-grey.

Mariana again trembled from the cold.

"How cold