Two saucy-looking girls in white hats stood on the platform at the end
of the train and watched the two bare-footed men with astonishment.
Sanine laughed at them, and executed a wild impromptu dance.
Before them lay a meadow where walking barefoot in the long lush grass
was an agreeable relief.
"How delightful!" cried Ivanoff.
"Life's worth living to-day," rejoined his companion. Ivanoff glanced
at Sanine; he thought those words must surely remind him of Sarudine
and the recent tragedy. Yet seemingly it was far from Sanine's
thoughts, which surprised Ivanoff somewhat, yet did not displease him.
After crossing the meadow, they again got on to the main road which was
thronged as before with peasants in their carts, and giggling girls.
Then they came to trees, and reeds, and glittering water, while above
them, at no great distance on the hill-side, stood the monastery,
topped by a cross that shone like some golden star.
Painted rowing-boats lined the shore, where peasants in bright-coloured
shirts and vests lounged. After much haggling and good-humoured banter,
Sanine hired one of the little boats. Ivanoff was a deft and powerful
oarsman, and the boat shot forward across the water like a living
thing. Sometimes the oars touched reeds or low-hanging branches which
for a long while after such contact trembled above the deep, dark
stream. Sanine steered with so much erratic energy that the water
foamed and gurgled round the rudder. They reached a narrow backwater
where it was shady and cool. So transparent was the stream that one
could see the bottom covered with yellow pebbles, where shoals of
little pink fish darted backwards and forwards.
"Here's a good place to land," said Ivanoff, and his voice sounded
cheery beneath the dark branches of the overhanging trees. As the boat
with a grating sound touched the bank, he sprang lightly ashore.
Sanine, laughing, did likewise.
"You won't find a better," he cried, plunging knee-deep through the
long grasses.
"Anywhere's good in the sun, I say," replied Ivanoff, as from the boat
he fetched the vodka, the bread, the cucumbers, and a little packet of
hors d'oeuvres. All these he placed on a mossy slope in the shade of
the trees, and here he lay down at full length.
"Lucullus dines with Lucullus," he said.
"Lucky man!" replied Sanine.
"Not entirely," added Ivanoff, with a droll expression of discontent,
"for he's forgotten the glasses."
"Never mind! We can manage, somehow."
Full of the sheer joy of living in this warm sunlight and green shade,
Sanine climbed up a tree and began cutting off a bough with his knife,
while Ivanoff watched him as the little white chips kept falling on to
the turf below. At last the bough fell, too, when Sanine climbed down,
and began to scoop it out, leaving the bark intact.