Tanaroff's thoughts were too much for him at this juncture. He burst
out laughing, and then looked thoroughly sheepish. Lida, her hands on
her hips and swaying gracefully to and fro, turned to look at him.
"I dare say they are enjoying themselves," she observed with a shrug of
the shoulders.
"Hark!" said Riasantzeff, as the sound of firing reached them.
"That was a shot," exclaimed Schafroff.
"What's the meaning of it?" cried Lialia, as she nervously clung to her
lover's arm.
"Don't be frightened! If it is a wolf, at this time of year they are
tame, and would never attack two people." Thus Riasantzeff sought to
reassure her, while secretly annoyed at Yourii's childish freak.
"Tomfoolery!" growled Schafroff, who was equally vexed.
"They are coming, they are coming! Don't worry!" said Lida
contemptuously.
A sound of footsteps could now be heard, and soon Sina and Yourii
emerged from the darkness.
Yourii blew out the light and smiled uneasily, as he was not sure of
his reception. He was covered with yellow clay, and Sina's shoulder
bore traces of this, for she had rubbed against the side of the cavern.
"Well?" asked Semenoff languidly.
"It was quite interesting in there," said Yourii half apologetically.
"Only the passage does not lead very far. It has been filled up. We saw
some rotten planks lying about."
"Did you hear us fire?" asked Sina, and her eyes sparkled.
"My friends," shouted Ivanoff, interrupting, "we have drunk all the
beer, and our souls are abundantly refreshed. Let us be going."
By the time that the boat reached a broader part of the stream the moon
had already risen. It was a strangely calm, clear evening. Above and
below, in the heaven as in the river, the golden stars gleamed. It was
as if the boat was suspended between two fathomless spaces. The dark
woods at the edge of the stream had a look of mystery. A nightingale
sang, and all listened in silence, not believing it to be a bird, but
rather some joyous dreamer in the gloom. Removing her large straw hat,
Sina Karsavina now began to sing a Russian popular air, sweet and sad
like all Russian songs. Her voice, a high soprano, though not powerful,
was sympathetic in quality.
Ivanoff muttered, "That's sweet!" and Sanine exclaimed "Charming!" When
she had finished they all clapped their hands and the sound was echoed
strangely in the dark woods on either side.