The frost lay like a veil over the earth, enveloping
all in a dazzling whiteness in which was imprisoned every shade of
colour under the sun. Crimsons, purples, softest yellows, tenderest
greens, and exquisite blues and pinks flashed and quivered fiercely
under the morning rays, shimmering in the brilliance. Over all hung
the hush of the trackless desert, the stillness that betokened death!
Marina's eyes had changed--they were no longer dark, limpid, full of
intoxication; they were wonderfully bright and clear. Her hips had
widened, her body had increased, adding a new grace to her stature.
She seldom went out, sitting for the most part in her room, which
resembled a forest-chapel where men prayed to the gods. In the
daytime she did her simple houskeeping--chopped wood, heated the
stove, cooked meat and fish, helped Demid to skin the beasts he had
slain, and to weed their plot of land. During the long evenings she
spun and wove clothes for the coming babe. As she sewed she thought
of the child, and sung and smiled softly.
An overwhelming joy possessed Marina when she thought of her
approaching motherhood. Her heart beat faster and her happiness
increased. Her own possible sufferings held no place in her thoughts.
In the lilac glow of dawn, when a round moon, solemn and immense,
glowed in the south-western sky, Demid took his rifle and Finnish
knife, and went on his sleigh into the forest.
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