"Why?"
"I don't know."
The blacksmith, without removing his hand, shoved back the boy's head, and looking into his eyes asked gravely:
"Why, is the sky black?"
"What else is it if she can't see?" Yevsey muttered.
"Who?"
"Tanya."
"Yes," said the blacksmith. After a moment's reflection he asked, "And how about the fire being black? Why did you invent that?"
The boy dropped his eyes and was silent.
"Well, speak. Nobody is beating you. Why did you tell her all that nonsense, eh?"