“And uncle, did you see——?” asked an agreeable young tenor.
Alexandra Ivanovna recognized in this last the voice of the curly-headed, somewhat red, freckled-faced lad who lived in the same court.
A brief and depressing silence followed. Then she heard a hoarse and harsh voice say suddenly: “Yes, I saw. It’s very large—and white. Lies near the bathhouse, and bays at the moon.”
The voice gave her an image of the man, of his shovel-shaped beard, his low, furrowed forehead, his small, piggish eyes, and his spread-out fat legs.
“And why does it bay, uncle?” asked the agreeable voice.
And again the hoarse voice did not reply at once.
“Certainly to no good purpose—and where it came from is more than I can say.”
“Do you think, uncle, it may be a were-wolf?” asked the agreeable voice.
“I should not advise you to investigate,” replied the hoarse voice.
She could not quite understand what these words implied, nor did she wish to think of them. She did not feel inclined to listen further. What was the sound and significance of human words to her?