They forced their way through the underwood, and knelt down by the graves. These had fallen in, and were so level with the rest of the ground that they could hardly be traced. They were marked by no crosses, overshadowed by no trees. Only barren sand was there, and a few dry stalks of mullein: all was stillness, oblivion, death. Ambrose, together with Yagustynka and old Klemba, were kneeling beside those perishing graves. A few lamps glimmered, fixed in the sand; the winds made them wave and tremble, and carried away the supplications into the blackness of the night. “Aye; there lies my mother,” Kuba said, rather to himself than to the boy, who had crept close to him, chilled to the very marrow. “Magdalena was her name. My father had land of his own: he served as coachman to the manor, but never drove out, save with the old Squire, and stallions to the coach!... After that, he died.... His uncle inherited the land, and I became swineherd to the manor.... Yes, Magdalena was my mother’s, and Peter, my father’s name: surname, Soha, and I bear it.... Then the Squire set to making me coachman, to drive with his stallions, as my father had done.... I was continually going to the chase, with Master and other gentlemen; and I learned to shoot pretty well myself; and the son of the Squire gave me a gun.... “I remember perfectly.... When they all went out for the insurrection, they took me with them too.... I fought for a whole year: killed more than one Russian grey dog ... more than two, even.... Then the Squire’s son was shot in the belly. His bowels gushed out. He was my master, and a good man; so I took him on my shoulders and carried him away.... Later, he got off somewhere to a warm country, but first gave me a letter to take to his father. Well, I went. I was weary of all, dog-tired ... got shot in the leg on my way, and it would not heal; for I was always out of doors, sleeping under the stars.... Then came snow, and a terrible frost:—I remember well!... So I got there ... at night ... and looked about for the place.—Oh, what a thunderstroke!—No more manor—no more barns—no more hedges, even. All had been burned down to the ground.... And the old Squire ... and his lady ... and my mother too ... and also the girl Yosefka, who was chambermaid there ... all lay in the garden, slaughtered!—O Jesus! Jesus!—Aye, I remember.—O holy Mary!” These last words he uttered very low; great tears that he did not care to hide ran down his cheeks in floods, and he heaved deep sighs, as that night rose again before him.