And with unsteady, trembling hands she unbuttoned her blouse. I helped her to free her breast, prepared by nature for a score of babies, and I placed the obstreperous fellow against her warm body. He grasped the situation at once and grew silent.

“Holy Mother of God, Most Pure Virgin,” the woman repeated, shuddering, and rolled her disheveled head from side to side on my bundle.

And suddenly, with a gentle outcry, she grew silent. Then she opened her infinitely beautiful eyes, the hallowed eyes of a mother. Blue, they looked at the blue sky, and there burned and melted in them a grateful, joyous smile. With a heavy hand she was slowly making the sign of the cross over herself and the child.…

“Glory be to Thee, Most Pure Mother of God,” she repeated; “oh… glory…”

Her eyes grew tired and sunken. For a long time she was silent, scarcely breathing. And suddenly she said in a matter-of-fact tone, her voice grown firm:

“Untie my sack, lad.…”

I did so. She looked at me attentively, smiled weakly, her drawn cheeks and damp forehead flushing slightly.

“Would you mind…”

“Don’t you do too much.…”

“Just leave me.…”

I went off into the thicket. Birds were gently singing in my heart and, together with the noise of the sea, this was so wonderful that I thought I could listen to that music for a year on end.…

Not far off a stream was babbling: it was as though a girl were telling her friend of her beloved.

Presently above the bushes the woman’s head appeared, with the yellow kerchief properly tied.

“Eh, is that you, sister?” I shouted. “It’s too soon for you to be stirring about.”

Holding on to a bough, she was sitting like a statue, white-faced, with huge blue lakes instead of eyes, and she whispered with emotion:

“Look—how he sleeps.…”

He looked well asleep, but as far as I could judge, no better than other babies, and if there was any difference it was due to the surroundings. He lay under a bush, such as do not grow in the province of Oryol, on a heap of bright autumn leaves.

“You had better lie down now, mother…” I advised her.

“No,” she said, shaking her head, which seemed to be loosely screwed to her neck; “I must tidy up and be off for what-d’ ye-call-it.…”

“Ochemchiry?”

“That’s it. My people must have gone quite a distance.…”

“But can you walk?”