it him. He took it and began eating.

The sun had by now set: its glow died away on the road above. It grew
dark and cool. Lipa and Praskovya walked on and for some time they kept
crossing themselves.

THE HUNTSMAN

A SULTRY, stifling midday. Not a cloudlet in the sky.... The sun-baked
grass had a disconsolate, hopeless look: even if there were rain it
could never be green again.... The forest stood silent, motionless,
as though it were looking at something with its tree-tops or expecting
something.

At the edge of the clearing a tall, narrow-shouldered man of forty in a
red shirt, in patched trousers that had been a gentleman's, and in
high boots, was slouching along with a lazy, shambling step. He was
sauntering along the road. On the right was the green of the clearing,
on the left a golden sea of ripe rye stretched to the very horizon.
He was red and perspiring, a white cap with a straight jockey peak,
evidently a gift from some open-handed young gentleman, perched jauntily
on his handsome flaxen head. Across his shoulder hung a game-bag with a
blackcock lying in it. The man held a double-barrelled gun cocked in his
hand, and screwed up his eyes in the direction of his lean old dog who
was running on ahead sniffing the bushes. There was stillness all round,
not a sound... everything living was hiding away from the heat.

"Yegor Vlassitch!" the huntsman suddenly heard a soft voice.

He started and, looking round, scowled. Beside him, as though she had
sprung out of the earth, stood a pale-faced woman of thirty with a
sickle in her hand. She was trying to look into his face, and was
smiling diffidently.

"Oh, it is you, Pelagea!" said the huntsman, stopping and deliberately
uncocking the gun. "H'm!... How have you come here?"

"The women from our village are working here, so I have come with
them.... As a labourer, Yegor Vlassitch."

"Oh..." growled Yegor Vlassitch, and slowly walked on.

Pelagea followed him. They walked in silence for twenty paces.

"I have not seen you for a long time, Yegor Vlassitch..." said Pelagea
looking tenderly at the huntsman's moving shoulders. "I have not seen
you since you came into our hut at Easter for a drink of water... you
came in at Easter for a minute and then God knows how... drunk... you
scolded and beat me and went away... I have been waiting and waiting...
I've tired my eyes out looking for you. Ah, Yegor Vlassitch, Yegor
Vlassitch! you might look in just on