cranes, about the gurgling streams, and the corn mounting into ear?

The two of them, the cobbler and the orphan, walk about the fields,
talk unceasingly, and are not weary. They could wander about the
world endlessly. They walk, and in their talk of the beauty of the
earth do not notice the frail little beggar-girl tripping after
them. She is breathless and moves with a lagging step. There are
tears in her eyes; she would be glad to stop these inexhaustible
wanderers, but to whom and where can she go? She has no home or
people of her own; whether she likes it or not, she must walk and
listen to their talk.

Towards midday, all three sit down on the river bank. Danilka takes
out of his bag a piece of bread, soaked and reduced to a mash, and
they begin to eat. Terenty says a prayer when he has eaten the
bread, then stretches himself on the sandy bank and falls asleep.
While he is asleep, the boy gazes at the water, pondering. He has
many different things to think of. He has just seen the storm, the
bees, the ants, the train. Now, before his eyes, fishes are whisking
about. Some are two inches long and more, others are no bigger than
one's nail. A viper, with its head held high, is swimming from one
bank to the other.

Only towards the evening our wanderers return to the village. The
children go for the night to a deserted barn, where the corn of the
commune used to be kept, while Terenty, leaving them, goes to the
tavern. The children lie huddled together on the straw, dozing.

The boy does not sleep. He gazes into the darkness, and it seems
to him that he is seeing all that he has seen in the day: the
storm-clouds, the bright sunshine, the birds, the fish, lanky
Terenty. The number of his impressions, together with exhaustion
and hunger, are too much for him; he is as hot as though he were
on fire, and tosses from, side to side. He longs to tell someone
all that is haunting him now in the darkness and agitating his soul,
but there is no one to tell. Fyokla is too little and could not
understand.

"I'll tell Terenty to-morrow," thinks the boy.

The children fall asleep thinking of the homeless cobbler, and, in
the night, Terenty comes to them, makes the sign of the cross over
them, and puts bread under their heads. And no one sees his love.
It is seen only by the moon which floats in the sky and peeps
caressingly through the holes in the wall of the deserted barn.

BOYS

"VOLODYA'S come!" someone shouted in