One of the neighbors was a blind girl, with whom Yevsey became intimate. He took her to walk in the village; carefully helped her down the ravine, and spoke to her in a low voice, opening wide his watery eyes in fear. This friendship did not escape the notice of the villagers, all of whom it pleased. But once the mother of the blind girl came to Uncle Piotr with a complaint. She declared Yevsey had frightened Tanya with his talk, and now she could not leave her daughter alone, because the girl cried and slept poorly, had disturbed dreams, and started out of her sleep screaming. What Yevsey had said to her it was impossible to make out. She kept babbling about devils, about the sky being black and having holes in it, about fires visible through the holes, and about devils who made sport in there, and teased people. What does it mean? How can anyone tell a little girl such stuff? "Come here," said Uncle Piotr to his nephew. When Yevsey quietly left his corner, the smith put his rough heavy hand on his head and asked: "Did you tell her all that?" "I did." "Why?" "I don't know." The blacksmith, without removing his hand, shoved back the boy's head, and looking into his eyes asked gravely: "Why, is the sky black?" "What else is it if she can't see?" Yevsey muttered. "Who?" "Tanya." "Yes," said the blacksmith. After a moment's reflection he asked, "And how about the fire being black? Why did you invent that?" The boy dropped his eyes and was silent. "Well, speak. Nobody is beating you. Why did you tell her all that nonsense, eh?" "I was sorry for her," whispered Yevsey. The blacksmith pushed him aside lightly. "You shan't talk to her any more, do you hear? Never! Don't worry, Aunt Praskovya, we'll put an end to this friendship." "You ought to give him a whipping," said the mother. "My little girl lived quietly, she wasn't a bit of a bother to anybody, and now someone has to be with her all the time." After Praskovya had left, the smith without saying anything led Yevsey by the hand into the yard. "Now talk sensibly. Why did you frighten the little girl?" The uncle's voice was not loud, but it was stern. Yevsey became frightened, and quickly began to justify himself, stuttering over his words. "I didn't frighten her--I did it just--just--she kept complaining--she said I see only black, but for you everything--so I began to tell her everything is black to keep her from being envious. I didn't mean to frighten her at all." Yevsey broke into sobs, feeling himself wronged. Uncle Piotr smiled. "You fool! You should have remembered that she's been blind only three years. She wasn't born blind. She lost her sight after she had the smallpox. So she recollects what things are really bright. Oh, what a stupid fellow!" "I'm not stupid. She believed me," Yevsey retorted, wiping his eyes. "Well, all right. Only don't go with her any more. Do you hear?" "I won't."