“What’s the good!” replied Kousma, with a careless gesture. “Youth is youth.”
“He! He!” laughed the old man in his turn, as with his fingers he plucked a red-hot coal from the fire.
Sanine’s laugh was heard in the darkness. The girls may have felt ashamed, for they had moved away, and their voices were scarcely audible.
“It is time to go,” said Riasantzeff, as he got up. “Thank you, Kousma.”
“Not at all,” replied the other, as with his sleeve he brushed away the black melon-pips that had stuck to his grey beard. He shook hands with both of them, and Yourii again felt a certain repugnance to the touch of his rough, bony hand. As they retreated from the fire, the gloom seemed less intense. Above were the cold, glittering stars and the vast dome of heaven, serenely fair. The group by the fire, the horses, and the pile of melons all became blacker against the light.
Yourii tripped over a pumpkin and nearly fell.
“Look out!” said Sanine. “Good-bye!”
“Good-bye!” replied Yourii, looking round at the other’s tall, dark form, leaning against which he fancied that he saw another, the graceful figure of a woman. Yourii’s heart beat faster. He suddenly thought of Sina Karsavina, and envied Sanine.
Once more the wheels of the droschky rattled, and once again the good old horse snorted as it ran.
The fire faded in distance, as did the sound of voices and laughter. Stillness reigned. Yourii slowly looked upwards to the sky with its jewelled web of stars. As they reached the outskirts of the town, lights flashed here and there, and dogs barked. Riasantzeff said to Yourii: