"You, Sergius Mitrich?... Aha! But Arina is still at church ... went
off there ... busy with her nonsense." The watchman paused. "Shall I
go in and turn off the light? The express will soon be passing. Will
you come in? Arina will be back before long. The wife's at home."
"No, I'm going into the forest."
"As you wish." The watchman passed along the embankment with his
lantern and approached the bridge.
Ivanov left the watch-house, and went into the forest, walking along
the edge of the ravine towards the river slope. A train rushed out
from the forest on the further side of the river, its flaming eyes
reflected in the dark shiny water; it moved forward, rolling loudly
and harshly over the bridge.
It was that hour of spring-time when, despite the many noises, there
was still an atmosphere of peace, and the burgeoning, luxuriantly-
clad earth could almost be heard breathing as it absorbed the vernal
moisture; the clash of the stream as it struck the rocks in the
ravine was hushed for the night. Nevertheless it seemed as though the
bold-browed, rugged wood-demon--awakened by spring--was shaking his
wings in the water.
Beyond the ravine and wood, beyond the river to the right, left,
behind, and before, the birds still chirruped over the currents.
Below, not many steps away, the stream flowed almost noiselessly;
only, as though immeasurably remote the confused gurgle of its waters
broke the profound quiet.
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