"
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.
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