“The banks of life cannot hold my love, which is as broad as the sea.”
“My love which is as broad as the sea,” echoed Sergey, thoughtfully, carried away by the sound of her voice and by her words.
“My love which is as broad as the sea,” repeated Werner, and suddenly he spoke wonderingly, cheerfully:
“Musya, how young you are!”
Suddenly Tsiganok whispered warmly, out of breath, right into Werner’s ear:
“Master! master! There’s the forest! My God! what’s that? There—where the lanterns are—are those the gallows? What does it mean?”
Werner looked at him. Tsiganok was writhing in agony before his death.
“We must bid each other good-by,” said Tanya Kovalchuk.
“Wait, they have yet to read the sentence,” answered Werner. “Where is Yanson?”
Yanson was lying on the snow, and about him people were busying themselves. There was a smell of ammonia in the air.