t home, how will I feel? And what
will become of me, what will become of me, wretched one that I am?
They'll marry the poor little orphan off to a man she does not like. My
poor little head!"

"Keep on singing, keep on singing," muttered Victor in a low voice,
stirring restlessly.

"If you only said one word, just one: 'Akulina--I--'"

Sudden heartrending sobs interrupted her. She fell with her face upon
the grass and cried bitterly, bitterly--All her body shook convulsively,
the back of her neck seemed to rise--The long-suppressed sorrow at last
burst forth in a stream of tears. Victor stood a while near her, then he
shrugged his shoulders, turned around and walked off with large steps.

A few moments went by. She grew silent, lifted her head, looked around
and clasped her hands; she was about to run after him, but her feet
failed her--she fell down on her knees. I could not endure it any longer
and rushed over to her; but before she had time to look at me, she
suddenly seemed to have regained her strength--and with a faint cry she
rose and disappeared behind the trees, leaving the scattered flowers on
the ground.

I stood a while, picked up the bunch of cornflowers, and walked out of
the grove to the field, The sun was low in the pale, clear sky; its
rays seemed to have faded and turned cold; they did not shine now, they
spread in an even, almost watery, light. There was only a half-hour left
until evening, and twilight was setting in. A violent wind was blowing
fast toward me across the yellow, dried-up stubble-field; the small
withered leaves were carried quickly past me across the road; the side
of the grove which stood like a wall by the field trembled and flashed
clearly, but not brightly; everywhere on the reddish grass, on the
blades, and the straw, innumerable autumn cobwebs flashed and trembled.
I stopped. I began to feel sad; it seemed a dismal fear of approaching
winter was stealing through the gay, though fresh, smile of fading
nature. High above me, a cautious raven flew by, heavily and sharply
cutting the air with his wings; then he turned his head, looked at me
sidewise, and, croaking abruptly, disappeared beyond the forest; a large
flock of pigeons rushed past me from a barn, and, suddenly whirling
about in a column, they came down and stationed themselves bustlingly
upon the field--a sign of spring autumn! Somebody rode by beyond the
bare hillock, making much noise with an empty wagon.

I retur