She was like a little wild fawn with her fresh
young body and sparkling eyes, always so ready to bewitch. His own
weary eyes involuntarily saddened for a moment; then he said
cheerily, in a louder tone than necessary:
"Well, isn't that the right attitude? Isn't it the best way? Love
while you can, Aganka, have a happy time."
"Oh, yes, let her have a happy time by all means ... it is young
blood's privilege." replied Ignat.
The bells again rang out for the Gospel. The sky grew darker and
darker. Ravens croaked hoarsely amidst the verdant foliage of the
trees. Ignat put his ear to the ground, listening. From the distance,
from the garden, the ravines, and the pasturage came the low cries of
cranes, barely audible amid the subdued rustling of the spring. Ignat
thrust forward his bearded face, it looked at first serious and
attentive, then it grew cunning and became animated with joy.
"The cranes have come down!" he cried in an excited whisper, as
though afraid of frightening them. Then he began to bustle about,
muttering:
"I must grease the double-barrel...."
Ivanov also bestirred himself. Because while tracking the cranes he
would be seeing her, Arina's image now came vividly before him--
broad, strong, ardent, with soft sensual lips, and wearing a red
handkerchief.
"Get the drosky out at dawn to-morrow," he ordered Ignat.
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