21. The Read Handkerchief

Nature itself seemed determined to be silent. In spite of herself, this terrible stillness was too much for Maroussia’s firmness of mind.

Alas! if this silence had only continued. But, suddenly gun-shots were heard on all sides, more than a hundred, than a thousand perhaps; it seemed as if they were fighting in all the recesses of the forest at once. It lasted about ten minutes, but it appeared an age to Maroussia. Nevertheless, longer and more terrible to her was the fearful silence which followed this noise of war, familiar indeed to her ears. She wished to see between and under the trees; moved as if by an electric spring, she arose on tiptoe.

“He is in the midst of this shooting,” she said to herself; “he was armed, he must have wished to open a passage for a portion of our army in the direction of the frontier. They have been surprised in this forest full of ambuscades.”

And, pressing her burning forehead in her feverish hands, she added:

“I must not think any more. For what good is it? God is above. We must await our destiny from Him.”

She seated herself again at the foot of the giant oak, praying for all those dear to her.

Deep in fervent prayer, at the moment when she said, “Father, permit me to see him again,” she thought that she was dreaming, that she heard the foliage move, the branches broken. But, no, she was not dreaming, the noise came from a spot very near, only a few steps from her. She looked toward the place whence it came. The branches were entirely pushed aside, and the face of Tchetchevik, lighted by the pale moon, which had just risen, appeared through the moving foliage. God, then, had answered her prayer! But was it indeed her good friend, or only his shadow? His face was so pale that the child’s cry of joy died on her lips.

“Maroussia,” said Tchetchevik to her, “do you see this red handkerchief?”

“Yes, I see it.”

“Well, then, I am going to lead you to the edge of the forest. I will show you a road. You will follow it, without leaving it, straight forward, always straight forward, until you come to a field of buckwheat; you will go through this field of buckwheat, it is divided by a path. This path will lead you to a little bridge; let your two wreaths fall on this bridge. On the other side of the bridge, at the left, behind a little mill you will see a small grove of trees. A man will come out of the edge of this grove. If he says to you, ‘May God help you! ’ you will answer: ‘ He has helped me! ’ and you will give him this red handkerchief. You understand me, Maroussia? You will forget nothing?”

Her good friend spoke slowly, more slowly than usual, and as if forced to do so, as if he was not able to speak faster. He became whiter and whiter, great drops of sweat stood on his forehead. He leaned against a tree.