The sun was setting. The mill rumbled and clattered in the distance, sounding louder or softer according to the wind. The seignorial drove of horses was lazily wandering about the meadows; a shepherd walked, humming a tune, after a flock of greedy and timorous sheep; the sheepdogs, from boredom, were running after the crows. Lutchkov walked up and down in the copse, with his arms folded. His horse, tied up near by, more than once whinnied in response to the sonorous neighing of the mares and fillies in the meadow. Avdey was ill-tempered and shy, as usual. Not yet convinced of Masha's love, he felt wrathful with her and annoyed with himself... but his excitement smothered his annoyance. He stopped at last before a large nut bush, and began with his riding-whip switching off the leaves at the ends of the twigs....
He heard a light rustle... he raised his head.... Ten paces from him stood Masha, all flushed from her rapid walk, in a hat, but with no gloves, in a white dress, with a hastily tied kerchief round her neck. She dropped her eyes instantly, and softly nodded....
Avdey went awkwardly up to her with a forced smile.
'How happy I am...' he was beginning, scarcely audibly.
'I am very glad... to meet you...' Masha interrupted breathlessly. 'I usually walk here in the evening... and you...'
But Lutchkov had not the sense even to spare her modesty, to keep up her innocent deception.
'I believe, Marya Sergievna,' he pronounced with dignity, 'you yourself suggested...'
'Yes... yes...' rejoined Masha hurriedly. 'You wished to see me, you wanted...' Her voice died away.
Lutchkov did not speak. Masha timidly raised her eyes.
'Excuse me,' he began, not looking at her, 'I'm a plain man, and not used to talking freely... to ladies... I... I wished to tell you... but, I fancy, you 're not in the humour to listen to me....'