“Where’s Vasily?”
“I don’t know. There he is.”
Vasily stood, gloomy, motionless.
“And where is Musya?”
“Here I am. Is that you, Werner?”
They began to look about, avoiding the direction of the gallows, where the lanterns continued to move about silently with terrible suggestiveness. On the left, the bare forest seemed to be growing thinner, and something large and white and flat was visible. A damp wind issued from it.
“The sea,” said Sergey Golovin, inhaling the air with nose and mouth. “The sea is there!”
Musya answered sonorously:
“My love which is as broad as the sea!”
“What is that, Musya?”