“And, brother Efimushka, I am no longer a gentleman. I am cured of that. Now we will have good times together! Eh? what do you say? Come, cheer up!” “What should I say,” began Efimushka, in a subdued voice. “I am ashamed. I have been telling you such things ... such nonsense!... I am only a peasant.... And we will spend the night here? I’ll light a fire.” “Well, go ahead!” The prisoner stretched himself upon the ground, face upwards, while the deputy went into the woods, from whence soon came sounds of the cracking of twigs. Presently Efimushka reappeared with an armful of firewood, and in a jiffy a small serpent of flame was merrily working its way upward through the pile of wood. The old comrades, sitting opposite each other, watched it pensively, and took turns at smoking the pipe. “Just as in the old days,” said Efimushka sadly. “Only, the times are not the same,” said Tuchkov. “W-well, yes, life is sterner than character.... Ah, but she has broken you....” “That still remains to be seen--whether I’m stronger or she,” smiled Tuchkov. They became silent. Behind them loomed the dark wall of the softly whispering forest; the bonfire crackled merrily; around it danced the silent shadows; and across the field lay an impenetrable darkness. FOOTNOTES: [2] Head of village community.