Tanaroff's thoughts were too much for him at this juncture. He burst

out laughing, and then looked thoroughly sheepish. Lida, her hands on

her hips and swaying gracefully to and fro, turned to look at him.

"I dare say they are enjoying themselves," she observed with a shrug of

the shoulders.

"Hark!" said Riasantzeff, as the sound of firing reached them.

"That was a shot," exclaimed Schafroff.

"What's the meaning of it?" cried Lialia, as she nervously clung to her

lover's arm.

"Don't be frightened! If it is a wolf, at this time of year they are

tame, and would never attack two people." Thus Riasantzeff sought to

reassure her, while secretly annoyed at Yourii's childish freak.

"Tomfoolery!" growled Schafroff, who was equally vexed.

"They are coming, they are coming! Don't worry!" said Lida

contemptuously.

A sound of footsteps could now be heard, and soon Sina and Yourii

emerged from the darkness.

Yourii blew out the light and smiled uneasily, as he was not sure of

his reception. He was covered with yellow clay, and Sina's shoulder

bore traces of this, for she had rubbed against the side of the cavern.

"Well?" asked Semenoff languidly.

"It was quite interesting in there," said Yourii half apologetically.

"Only the passage does not lead very far. It has been filled up. We saw

some rotten planks lying about."

"Did you hear us fire?" asked Sina, and her eyes sparkled.

"My friends," shouted Ivanoff, interrupting, "we have drunk all the

beer, and our souls are abundantly refreshed. Let us be going."

By the time that the boat reached a broader part of the stream the moon

had already risen. It was a strangely calm, clear evening. Above and

below, in the heaven as in the river, the golden stars gleamed. It was

as if the boat was suspended between two fathomless spaces. The dark

woods at the edge of the stream had a look of mystery. A nightingale

sang, and all listened in silence, not believing it to be a bird, but

rather some joyous dreamer in the gloom. Removing her large straw hat,

Sina Karsavina now began to sing a Russian popular air, sweet and sad

like all Russian songs. Her voice, a high soprano, though not powerful,

was sympathetic in quality.

Ivanoff muttered, "That's sweet!" and Sanine exclaimed "Charming!" When

she had finished they all clapped their hands and the sound was echoed

strangely in the dark woods on either side.




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