In the darkness, and beyond the circle of light, one could hear laughter, and the voices of girls whom shyness had kept at a distance. A few feet away from the fire, and in quite a different place from where Yourii imagined him to be seated, Sanine struck a match. In the reddish flare of it Yourii saw his calm, friendly eyes, and beside him a young face whose soft eyes beneath their dark brows looked up at Sanine with simple joy. Riasantzeff, as he winked to Kousma, said: “Grandfather, hadn’t you better keep an eye on your granddaughter, eh?” “What’s the good!” replied Kousma, with a careless gesture. “Youth is youth.” “He! He!” laughed the old man in his turn, as with his fingers he plucked a red-hot coal from the fire. Sanine’s laugh was heard in the darkness. The girls may have felt ashamed, for they had moved away, and their voices were scarcely audible. “It is time to go,” said Riasantzeff, as he got up. “Thank you, Kousma.” “Not at all,” replied the other, as with his sleeve he brushed away the black melon-pips that had stuck to his grey beard. He shook hands with both of them, and Yourii again felt a certain repugnance to the touch of his rough, bony hand. As they retreated from the fire, the gloom seemed less intense. Above were the cold, glittering stars and the vast dome of heaven, serenely fair. The group by the fire, the horses, and the pile of melons all became blacker against the light. Yourii tripped over a pumpkin and nearly fell. “Look out!” said Sanine. “Good-bye!” “Good-bye!” replied Yourii, looking round at the other’s tall, dark form, leaning against which he fancied that he saw another, the graceful figure of a woman. Yourii’s heart beat faster. He suddenly thought of Sina Karsavina, and envied Sanine. Once more the wheels of the _droschky_ rattled, and once again the good old horse snorted as it ran. The fire faded in distance, as did the sound of voices and laughter. Stillness reigned. Yourii slowly looked upwards to the sky with its jewelled web of stars. As they reached the outskirts of the town, lights flashed here and there, and dogs barked. Riasantzeff said to Yourii: “Old Kousma’s a philosopher, eh?” Seated behind, Yourii looked at Riasantzeff’s neck, and roused from his own melancholy thoughts, endeavoured to understand what he said. “Oh!… Yes!” he replied hesitatingly. “I didn’t know that Sanine was such a gay dog,” laughed Riasantzeff. Yourii was not dreaming now, and he recalled the momentary vision of Sanine and that pretty girlish face illumined by the light of a match. Again he felt jealous, yet suddenly it occurred to him that Sanine’s treatment of the girl was base and contemptible. “No, I had no idea of it, either,” said Yourii, with a touch of irony that was lost upon Riasantzeff, who whipped up the horse and, after a while, remarked: “Pretty girl, wasn’t she? I know her. She’s the old fellow’s grandchild,”