A pair of cranes cried softly as they roosted for
the night, and a pearl grey mist rolled down to the meadows and
enveloped them in innumerable murkyscarves. The brothers entered a
village as still as the grave. Somewhere beyond, a dog barked. Not a
sound broke the utter, solemn silence as they walked along.
"There is typhus and barbarity in every peasant's hut," Constantine
muttered. Then he, too, lapsed into silence, listening.
Beyond some huts on a village by-path girls' voices could be heard
singing an Annunciation hymn. In the vasts depths of silence it
sounded solemn, simple, sane. The two princes felt it to be as
immutable as the Spring with its law of birth. They remained standing
there a long while, resting first on one foot, then on the other.
Each felt that mankind's blood and energy still flowed bright and
unsullied despite the world upheaval.
"Good! That is infinitely touching. That will not die," declared
Vilyashev. "It has come down to us through the Ages."
"Aye," replied Prince Constantine bitterly, "wonderfully good.
Pathetically good. Abominably good!"
From the bend in the road the girls appeared in their coloured
aprons; they passed decorously in pairs, singing:
"Rejoice, O Virgin Mother! Blessed art Thou amongst women"....
The earth was moist and exhaled a sweet, delicate odour of rich,
fresh vegetation.
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