ok off his cassock, his girdle, and his full
coat, and Yegorushka, looking at him, was dumb with astonishment.
He had never imagined that priests wore trousers, and Father
Christopher had on real canvas trousers thrust into high boots, and
a short striped jacket. Looking at him, Yegorushka thought that in
this costume, so unsuitable to his dignified position, he looked
with his long hair and beard very much like Robinson Crusoe. After
taking off their outer garments Kuzmitchov and Father Christopher
lay down in the shade under the chaise, facing one another, and
closed their eyes. Deniska, who had finished munching, stretched
himself out on his back and also closed his eyes.

"You look out that no one takes away the horses!" he said to
Yegorushka, and at once fell asleep.

Stillness reigned. There was no sound except the munching and
snorting of the horses and the snoring of the sleepers; somewhere
far away a lapwing wailed, and from time to time there sounded the
shrill cries of the three snipe who had flown up to see whether
their uninvited visitors had gone away; the rivulet babbled, lisping
softly, but all these sounds did not break the stillness, did not
stir the stagnation, but, on the contrary, lulled all nature to
slumber.

Yegorushka, gasping with the heat, which was particularly oppressive
after a meal, ran to the sedge and from there surveyed the country.
He saw exactly the same as he had in the morning: the plain, the
low hills, the sky, the lilac distance; only the hills stood nearer;
and he could not see the windmill, which had been left far behind.
From behind the rocky hill from which the stream flowed rose another,
smoother and broader; a little hamlet of five or six homesteads
clung to it. No people, no trees, no shade were to be seen about
the huts; it looked as though the hamlet had expired in the burning
air and was dried up. To while away the time Yegorushka caught a
grasshopper in the grass, held it in his closed hand to his ear,
and spent a long time listening to the creature playing on its
instrument. When he was weary of its music he ran after a flock of
yellow butterflies who were flying towards the sedge on the
watercourse, and found himself again beside the chaise, without
noticing how he came there. His uncle and Father Christopher were
sound asleep; their sleep would be sure to last two or three hours
till the horses had rested. . . . How was he to get through that
long time, and wher