Here an Abkhasian came riding slowly by, his head drooping sleepily. His small sinewy horse looked at us out of the corner of its round black eye, pricking up its ears. Suddenly it snorted and the rider warily jerked up his head in its shaggy fur cap, looked in our direction too, and dropped his head again.

“How queer people are here, and frightening,” said the woman quietly.

I went off. A stream of clear water as alive as quick-silver flowed over the stones, and in it autumn leaves were gaily cavorting. It was wonderful. I washed my hands and face, filled my tea-kettle, and went back. Through the bushes I noticed that the woman was crawling on her knees, casting uneasy glances about her.

“What is it?” I shouted to her.

She turned gray with fright and proceeded to hide something under her skirts. I understood what it was.

“Give it to me,” I said; “I’ll bury it.”

“Oh, dear! But how will you do it? It should be buried in the bath-house entry, under the floor.…”

“And how soon do you think they’ll build a bath-house here?”

“This is a joke to you, but I am afraid! Maybe, a beast will devour it… it must be given back to the earth, you know.…”

She turned aside and, handing me a damp, heavy bundle, begged me shamefacedly, under her breath:

“You bury it well, as deep as possible, for Christ’s sake. … Out of pity for my little son, do it well.…”

When I came back, she was returning from the beach. Her gait was unsteady and one of her arms was stretched out in front of her; her skirt was wet up to her waist; her face was somewhat flushed and lit by an inner light, as it were. I helped her to walk to the fire, thinking to myself: “What animal strength!” Then we drank tea with honey and she questioned me gently:

“You’ve given up school?”

“I have.”

“After drinking away everything?”

“Yes, I drank away everything, mother, to the last shred!”

“That is the kind of fellow you are! I remember you; I noticed you at Sukhum when you were arguing with the chief over the food; I thought to myself then: he is afraid of nothing, must be a drunk!”

And appreciatively licking the honey off her swollen lips, she kept glancing at the bush under which the latest addition to the population of Oryol was quietly asleep.

“What will his life be like, I wonder?” she said with a sigh, looking at me. “Here you’ve helped me, and I thank you for it… but is it good for him? I don’t know.…”

She finished her tea and her food, crossed herself, and while I was getting my things together, she was staring at the ground with her faded eyes, swaying sleepily, and thinking. Then she started getting up.

“Are you really going to walk?” I asked her.

“I am.”