15. The Meeting of Friends

Tchetchevik was not mistaken; the evening star was not yet shining above the horizon, when the outlines of the tomb of Naddniprovka arose before them.

The sun had already gone down, but the evening was still light, it was a sort of golden mist. The young trees, the shrubs and tall grass which covered the tomb seemed as if on fire. The shattered, broken cross was plainly reflected in the sky. Large birds of a deep gray color, passing between the red of the western sky and the earth, were tinted as if by a rainbow.

From the top of the tomb, they saw the Dnieper. Its waters looked like the reflection of polished steel. On the other side of the river arose woody mountains, which were perfectly dark at the base, but their tops were still bathed in red light.

The low murmur of deep water could be heard and the rustling of the wind through the reeds. From time to time, the cry of a gull broke forth in the silence, and very soon the gull itself was reflected on the waters like a capricious little spot.

“It seems to me that the only thing wanting to make this charming picture perfect, is a little music,” Tchetchevik said to Maroussia. “What do you think? Suppose I sing a song to the Dnieper!”

“The very thing, I am glad you thought of it!” Maroussia said. “Let us be seated and amuse ourselves.”

He took his théorbe, and very soon the mountain echoes repeated many times the words sung in a strong voice by the old singer:

“Leave us our prairies. Leave us our steppes. To whom do they belong, if not to us? Do their flowers know you? They will never know you. Seeing you at a distance even, they wither.

“Be afraid of the tears of the innocent. They will fall again some time on him who causes them to be shed.

“Be afraid of the silence of the man unjustly struck, the knout never killed a soul, and the wrongs of the father unjustly punished will be cherished by the child. The wrath of both will be added together.”

The song was short but expressive. Having finished it, Tchetchevik gently touched the strings of his théorbe for a few moments. His piercing eyes were fixed on the Dnieper. Maroussia too did not take her eyes off the river.

Suddenly, a gull’s cry was heard. This gull seemed to be on the edge of the river, down by the large rocks among the reeds.