8. At the Same Place

Going into the court, Maroussia saw her wagon still filled with hay, at the same place where she had left it. Tarass was working with great zeal. He climbed up on the wheel, pulled out the hay by the handfuls from the bundles which he could reach, and gave it to the oxen, that accepted the offering with great dignity.

Maroussia fluttered around the wagon like a wounded bird.

Tarass, having fed the beasts, began to talk and asked several questions of the new-comer.

But Maroussia, entirely occupied with her own thoughts, answered him only with monosyllables.

Suddenly, the idea struck her that her presence near the wagon might seem .strange, and she went quickly away. She walked about in the large court, she penetrated into the bushy garden, she stood still, looked about her and contemplated the fields which spread out in the distance.

“What is to be done? ” she asked herself. “What will become of him? How can I save him? How free him? Nothing is changed in the look of the wagon; can he still be—” She walked about in the court to assure herself that no one was watching her. “If I can without imprudence,” she said to herself, “I will try, if not to call him, at least, by some means to attract his attention.”

Suddenly, while passing by a heap of large stones, piled up against a wall in ruins, she thought she heard, no, she heard very distinctly, as if it came out of the earth, the voice she knew so well, and it said to her:

“Thanks, my little Maroussia! Be easy, everything is all right!”

She could not doubt, it was the voice, the very voice of him for whom she thought she still must tremble. Struck with joy as with an arrow, she dropped on the ground, incapable of taking another step. Gradually she collected her thoughts and tried to see from what place this voice came that she was so happy to hear.

The heap of stones near which she found herself seemed very old. It was covered with moss, wild herbs, and running plants, with little yellow flowers which shone like stars in the sunlight. Evidently these stones had been placed there a long time ago, under a building which had almost entirely disappeared, whose cellar window her searching eye discovered, although it was scarcely visible through the mass of plants which obstructed it.

“Have I indeed heard him?” Maroussia asked herself.

Her poor heart was ready to burst. But the voice coming again through the rubbish, could be heard a second time:

“My faithful friend,” said the voice, “take courage. We have passed through the storm, we will not be wrecked in port, I hope.”

Maroussia stood motionless, she was still listening, although everything was quiet.

These few words coming from her good friend, were like so many magic words, and drove away all her fears.