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scarcely visible dots； they sank down far beyond the forest。
〃How do you live？〃 he asked； moving his eyes from the ducks to
Pelagea。
〃Now I am going out to work； and in the winter I take a child
from the Foundling Hospital and bring it up on the bottle。 They
give me a rouble and a half a month。〃
〃Oh。 。 。 。〃
Again a silence。 From the strip that had been reaped floated a
soft song which broke off at the very beginning。 It was too hot
to sing。
〃They say you have put up a new hut for Akulina；〃 said Pelagea。
Yegor did not speak。
〃So she is dear to you。 。 。 。〃
〃It's your luck； it's fate！〃 said the huntsman； stretching。 〃You
must put up with it； poor thing。 But good…bye； I've been
chattering long enough。 。 。 。 I must be at Boltovo by the
evening。〃
Yegor rose； stretched himself； and slung his gun over his
shoulder； Pelagea got up。
〃And when are you coming to the village？〃 she asked softly。
〃I have no reason to； I shall never come sober； and you have
little to gain from me drunk； I am spiteful when I am drunk。
Good…bye！〃
〃Good…bye； Yegor Vlassitch。〃
Yegor put his cap on t he back of his head and； clicking to his
dog； went on his way。 Pelagea stood still looking after him。 。 。
。 She saw his moving shoulder…blades； his jaunty cap； his lazy；
careless step； and her eyes were full of sadness and tender
affection。 。 。 。 Her gaze flitted over her husband's tall； lean
figure and caressed and fondled it。 。 。 。 He； as though he felt
that gaze； stopped and looked round。 。 。 。 He did not speak； but
from his face； from his shrugged shoulders； Pelagea could see
that he wanted to say something to her。 She went up to him
timidly and looked at him with imploring eyes。
〃Take it；〃 he said； turning round。
He gave her a crumpled rouble note and walked quickly away。
〃Good…bye； Yegor Vlassitch；〃 she said； mechanically taking the
rouble。
He walked by a long road； straight as a taut strap。 She； pale and
motionless as a statue； stood； her eyes seizing every step he
took。 But the red of his shirt melted into the dark colour of his
trousers； his step could not be seen； and the dog could not be
distinguished from the boots。 Nothing could be seen but the cap；
and 。 。 。 suddenly Yegor turned off sharply into the clearing and
the cap vanished in the greenness。
〃Good…bye； Yegor Vlassitch；〃 whispered Pelagea； and she stood on
tiptoe to see the white cap once more。
HAPPINESS
A FLOCK of sheep was spending the night on the broad steppe road
that is called the great highway。 Two shepherds were guarding it。
One； a toothless old man of eighty； with a tremulous face； was
lying on his stomach at the very edge of the road； leaning his
elbows on the dusty leaves of a plantain； the other； a young
fellow with thick black eyebrows and no moustache； dressed in the
coarse canvas of which cheap sacks are made； was lying on his
back； with his arms under his head； looking upwards at the sky；
where the stars were slumbering and the Milky Way lay stretched
exactly above his face。
The shepherds were not alone。 A couple of yards from them in the
dusk that shrouded the road a horse made a patch of darkness；
and； beside it； leaning against the saddle； stood a man in high
boots and a short full…skirted jacket who looked like an overseer
on some big estate。 Judging from his upright and motionless
figure； from his manners； and his behaviour to the shepherds and
to his horse； he was a serious； reasonable man who knew his own
value； even in the darkness signs could be detected in him of
military carriage and of the majestically condescending
expression gained by frequent intercourse with the gentry and
their stewards。
The sheep were asleep。 Against the grey background of the dawn；
already beginning to cover the eastern part of the sky； the
silhouettes of sheep that were not asleep could be seen here and
there； they stood with drooping heads； thinking。 Their thoughts；
tedious and oppressive； called forth by images of nothing but the
broad steppe and the sky； the days and the nights； probably
weighed upon them themselves； crushing them into apathy； and；
standing there as though rooted to the earth； they noticed
neither the presence of a stranger nor the uneasiness of the
dogs。
The drowsy； stagnant air was full of the monotonous noise
inseparable from a summer night on the steppes； the grasshoppers
chirruped incessantly； the quails called； and the young
nightingales trilled languidly half a mile away in a ravine where
a stream flowed and willows grew。
The overseer had halted to ask the shepherds for a light for his
pipe。 He lighted it in silence and smoked the whole pipe； then；
still without uttering a word； stood with his elbow on the
saddle； plunged in thought。 The young shepherd took no notice of
him； he still lay gazing at the sky while the old man slowly
looked the overseer up and down and then asked：
〃Why； aren't you Panteley from Makarov's estate？〃
〃That's myself；〃 answered the overseer。
〃To be sure； I see it is。 I didn't know you that is a sign you
will be rich。 Where has God brought you from？〃
〃From the Kovylyevsky fields。〃
〃That's a good way。 Are you letting the land on the part…crop
system？〃
〃Part of it。 Some like that； and some we are letting on lease；
and some for raising melons and cucumbers。 I have just come from
the mill。〃
A big shaggy old sheep…dog of a dirty white colour with woolly
tufts about its nose and eyes walked three times quietly round
the horse； trying to seem unconcerned in the presence of
strangers； then all at once dashed suddenly from behind at the
overseer with an angry aged growl； the other dogs could not
refrain from leaping up too。
〃Lie down； you damned brute；〃 cried the old man； raising himself
on his elbow； 〃blast you； you devil's creature。〃
When the dogs were quiet again； the old man resumed his former
attitude and said quietly：
〃It was at Kovyli on Ascension Day that Yefim Zhmenya died。 Don't
speak of it in the dark； it is a sin to mention such people。 He
was a wicked old man。 I dare say you have heard。〃
〃No； I haven't〃
〃Yefim Zhmenya； the uncle of Styopka； the blacksmith。 The whole
district round knew him。 Aye； he was a cursed old man； he was！ I
knew him for sixty years； ever since Tsar Alexander who beat the
French was brought from Taganrog to Moscow。 We went together to
meet the dead Tsar； and in those days the great highway did not
run to Bahmut； but from Esaulovka to Gorodishtche； and where
Kovyli is now； there were bustards' nests there was a
bustard's nest at every step。 Even then I had noticed that Yefim
had given his soul to damnation； and that the Evil One was in
him。 I have observed that if any man of the peasant class is apt
to be silent； takes up with old women's jobs； and tries to live
in solitude； there is no good in it； and Yefim from his youth up
was always one to hold his tongue and look at you sideways； he
always seemed to be sulky and bristling like a cock before a hen。
To go to church or to the tavern or to lark in the street with
the lads was not his fashion； he would rather sit alone or be
whispering with old women。 When he was still young