Flocks of ducks were already
crowding our marshes, but there was not even a hint of improvement.
It was red upon the steppes. Ricks of grain, like Cossacks' caps, dotted
the fields here and there. On the highway were to be encountered wagons
loaded with brushwood and logs. The ground had become more solid, and in
places was touched with frost. Already had the snow begun to besprinkle
the sky, and the branches of the trees were covered with rime like
rabbit-skin. Already on frosty days the red-breasted finch hopped about
on the snow-heaps like a foppish Polish nobleman, and picked out grains
of corn; and children, with huge sticks, chased wooden tops upon the
ice; while their fathers lay quietly on the stove, issuing forth at
intervals with lighted pipes in their lips, to growl, in regular
fashion, at the orthodox frost, or to take the air, and thresh the grain
spread out in the barn. At last the snow began to melt, and the ice rind
slipped away: but Petro remained the same; and, the longer it went on,
the more morose he grew. He sat in the middle of the cottage as though
nailed to the spot, with the sacks of gold at his feet. He grew shy, his
hair grew long, he became terrible; and still he thought of but one
thing, still he tried to recall something, and got angry and ill-
tempered because he could not recall it.
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