The beast, with fore legs still on firm ice, made desperate efforts; but evidently the pieces on which he was resting began to move from under his feet, for he fell deeper, and began to groan hoarsely.
Basia had still time sufficient and presence of mind to seize the mane of the horse and reach the unbroken ice in front of him. She fell and was wet in the water; but rising and feeling firm ground under foot, she knew that she was saved. She wished to save the horse, and bending forward caught the bridle; and going toward the bank she pulled it with all her might.
But the horse sank deeper, could not free even his fore legs to grapple the ice, which was still unmoved. The reins were pulled harder every instant; but he sank more and more. He began to groan with a voice almost human, baring his teeth the while; his eyes looked at Basia with indescribable sadness, as if wishing to say to her: “There is no rescue for me; drop the reins ere I drag thee in!”
There was, in truth, no rescue for him, and Basia had to drop the reins.
When the horse disappeared beneath the ice she went to the bank, sat down under a bush without leaves, and sobbed like a child.
Her energy was thoroughly broken for the moment. And besides that, the bitterness and pain which, after meeting with people, had filled her heart, overflowed it now with still greater force. Everything was against her,—uncertain roads, darkness, the elements, men, beasts; the hand of God alone had seemed to watch over her. In that kind, fatherly care she had put all her childlike trust; but now even that hand had failed her. This was a feeling to which Basia had not given such clear expression; but if she had not, she felt it all the more strongly in her heart.
What remained to her? Complaint and tears! And still she had shown all the valor, all the courage, all the endurance which such a poor, weak creature could show. Now, see, her horse is drowned,—the last hope of rescue, the last plank of salvation, the only thing living that was with her! Without that horse she felt powerless against the unknown expanse which separated her from Hreptyoff, against the pine woods, ravines, and steppes; not only defenceless against the pursuit of men and beasts, but she felt far more lonely and deserted than before. She wept till tears failed her. Then came exhaustion, weariness, and a feeling of helplessness so great that it was almost equal to rest. Sighing deeply once and a second time, she said to herself,—
“Against the will of God I am powerless. I will die where I am.”
And she closed her eyes, aforetime so bright and joyous, but now hollow and sunken.
In its own way, though her body was becoming more helpless every moment, thought was still throbbing in her head like a frightened bird, and her heart was throbbing also. If no one in the world loved her, she would have less regret to die; but all loved her so much.