14. The Object—And Afterwards

Maroussia wished to see more clearly this timid one, but she found that the fellow’s head was so high above her that she could see only the famous pair of mustaches, which hung down like two wisps of hay.

“You are timid,” Tchetchevik answered. “But try to regain courage. What do you want me to sing for you?”

“Anything.”

The singer murmured in a low tone of voice this refrain: “Sleep not, even in the night. The wolves roam about even in the darkness; in order not to be surprised by them, you must have watchful eyes when everything seems quiet.”

“Your song pleases me, and is to the point,” said the timid fellow, “you can pass. I promised myself, surely, when I let you enter without saying anything, some hours ago, that on your return I would know the sound of your voice.”

“He was there, he was there!” Maroussia said, satisfied, “the entrance was not deserted. So much the better!”

On the other side of the gate the road stretched itself out like a black ribbon on a green carpet. The nightingales certainly vied with each other in singing that night in all the gardens of Tchigurine. “They are singing for the break of day; it is also a song of hope,” Maroussia said to herself.