I followed him at some distance, anxious not to lose sight of him.
During this time the moon became covered with clouds, and a black fog rose over the sea. It was just possible to distinguish in the darkness a lantern on the mast of a ship at anchor, close to the shore. The waves were rolling in, and threatened, if he continued to advance, to swallow up my blind adventurer. He was now so near the sea, that with another step he would be lost. But this was not the first of his nocturnal expeditions; so at least I concluded from the agility with which he now sprang from rock to rock, while the sea poured in beneath his feet. Suddenly he stopped as though he had heard some noise, sat down upon a rock, and placed his burden by his side. He was now joined by a white figure walking along the shore. I had concealed myself behind one of the rocks, and overheard the following conversation.
"The wind," said a woman's voice, "is very violent; Janko will not come."
"Janko," replied the blind boy, "Janko is not afraid of the wind."
"But the clouds get thicker and thicker."
"In the darkness it is easier to escape the coast-guard."
"And what if he gets drowned?"
"You will have no more bright ribbons to wear on Sunday."
As I listened to this colloquy, I remarked that the blind boy, who had spoken to me in the Little Russian dialect, talked quite correctly the true Russian language.
