In such places generally dwell nymphs, _rusalki_, and other bad or good forest sprites. Kasya, who was in advance, stood first on the banks of the stream and looked upon the water in which was reflected her graceful form. She verily appeared as one of those beautiful forest spirits as they are seen sometimes by the woodsmen or lumber men who float on their rafts down the rivers through the woods. She had no covering upon her head, and the wind gently played with her locks and ruffled her ray-like hair. Sunburned she was, blond-haired, and her eyes, as blue as turquoise, were as laughing as her lips.

Besides, she was a divinely tall, slender, and fairy-like maiden. No one could swear, if she was suddenly startled, that she would not jump into the water--would not dissolve into mist--into rainbow rays--would not turn quickly into a water-lily or _kalina_ tree, which, when robbed of its flowers, remonstrates with a voice so human, yet recalling the sigh of the forest:

"Don't touch me."

Kasya, bending over the water so that her tresses fell on her shoulders, turned toward John and said:

"How shall we drink?"

"As birds," answered John, pointing to some silver pheasants on the opposite side of the stream.

John, who knew how to help himself better than the birds, plucked a large leaf from a tree, and, making a funnel out of it, filled it with water and gave it to Kasya.

They both drank, then Kasya gathered some forget-me-nots, and John with his knife made a flute from the willow bark, on which, when he had finished, he began to play the air which the shepherds play in the eventide on the meadows. The soft notes floated away with ineffable tenderness in this secluded spot. Shortly he removed the flute and listened intently as if to catch an echo returning from the aspen trees, and it seemed that the clear stream, the dark aspen trees, and the birds hidden in the canes listened to these notes with him.

All became silent, but shortly, as if in answer--as if a challenge--came the first faint note of the nightingale, followed by a stronger trill. The nightingale wanted to sing--it challenged the flute.

Now he began to sing. All nature was listening to this divine singer.

The lilies lifted their heads above the water; the forget-me-nots pressed closer together; the canes ceased to rustle; no bird dared to peep except an unwise and absent-minded cuckoo, who with her silent wing alighted near by on a dry bough, lifted her head, widely opened her beak, and foolishly called aloud:

"Cuckoo! cuckoo!"

Afterward it seemed as if she was ashamed of her outbreak, and she quietly subsided.

Vainly Kasya, who stood on the edge of the stream with the forget-me-nots in her hand, turned to the side from whence came the voice of the cuckoo and queried:

"Cuckoo, blue-gray cuckoo, how long shall I live?"

The cuckoo answered not.

"Cuckoo, shall I be rich?"

The cuckoo was silent.

Then John: "Cuckoo, gray cuckoo, how soon will I wed?"

The cuckoo replied not.

"She cares not to answer us," said John; "let us return to the forest."

On returning they found the large stone by which they had placed the basket and bunches of herbs. Kasya, seating herself beside it, began to weave garlands, and John helped her. Burek lay near them, stretched his hairy forepaws, lolled out his tongue and breathed heavily from fatigue, looking carefully around to see if he could not spy some living thing to chase and enjoy his own noise. But everything in the woods was quiet. The sun was traveling toward the west, and through the leaves and the needles of the pines shot his rays, becoming more and more red, covering the ground of the woods in places with great golden circles. The air was dry; in the west were spreading great shafts of golden light, which flooded all like an ocean of molten gold and amber. The wondrous beauties of the peaceful, warm spring evening were glowing in the sky. In the woods the daily work was gradually ceasing. The noise of the woodp.e.c.k.e.r had stopped; black and bronzed ants returned in rows to their hills, which were red in the rays of the setting sun. Some carried in their mouths pine needles and some insects. Among the herbs here and there circled small forest bees, humming joyfully as they completed their last load of the sweet flower-dust. From the fissures in the bark of the trees came gloomy and blind millers; in the streams of the golden light circled swarms of midgets and gnats scarcely visible to the eye; mosquitoes began their mournful song. On the trees the birds were choosing their places for the night; a yellow bird was softly whistling; the crows flapped their wings, crowding all on one tree and quarreling about the best places. But these voices were more and more rare, and became fainter; gradually all ceased, and the silence was interrupted by the evening breeze playing among the trees. The poplar tree tried to lift her bluish-green leaves upward; the king-oak murmured softly; the leaves of the birch tree slightly moved--silence.

Now the sky became more red; in the east the horizon became dark blue, and all the voices of the woods merged into a chorus, solemn, deep and immense. Thus the forest sings its evening song of praise, and says its prayers before it sleeps; tree speaks to tree of the glory of G.o.d, and you would say that it spoke with a human voice.

Only very innocent souls understand this great and blessed speech.

Only very innocent hearts hear and understand when the first chorus of the parent oaks begins its strain:

"Rejoice, O sister pines, and be glad. The Lord hath given a warm and peaceful day, and now above the earth He makes the starry night. Great is the Lord, and mighty, powerful and good is He, so let there be glory to Him upon the heights, upon the waters, upon the lands, and upon the air."

And the pines pondered a moment upon the words of the oaks, and then they raised their voices together, saying:

"Now, O Lord, to thy great glory, we, as censers, offer to Thee the incense of our sweet-smelling balsam, strong, resinous and fragrant.

'Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name.'"

Then the birches said:

"Thy evening brightness illumines the heavens, O Lord! and in Thy splendors our small leaves golden are and burning. Now with our golden leaves we sing to Thee, O Lord, and our delicate twigs play as the strings of the harp, O good Father of ours!"

Again the sorrowing cypress said:

"Upon our sad foreheads, exhausted with the heat, softly falls the evening dew. Praise be to Thee, O Lord; brothers and sisters rejoice, because there falls the cooling dew."

Amid this chorus of trees the aspen alone trembles and is afraid; for it gave the wood for the Cross of the Saviour of the world; at times it faintly groans:

"O Lord, have mercy upon me. Have mercy upon me, O Lord."

Again, sometimes, when the oaks and pines cease for a moment, there rises from under their feet a faint, modest voice, low as the murmur of insects, silent as silence itself, which says:

"A small berry am I, O Lord, and hidden in the moss. But Thou wilt hear, discern and love me; though small, devout am I, and sing Thy glory."

Thus every evening prays the forest, and these orchestral sounds rise at every sunset from earth to heaven--and float high, high, reaching where there is no creature, where there is nothing only the silvery dust and the milky way of the stars, and above the stars--G.o.d.

At this moment the sun hides his radiant head in the far-distant seas; the farmer turns upward his plowshares and hastens to his cottage.

From the pastures return the bellowing herds; the sheep raise clouds of the golden dust. The twilight falls; in the village creek the well sweeps; later the windows shine, and from the distance comes the barking of the dogs.

The sun had not gone beyond the woods when Kasya had seated herself under the mossy stone to weave her garlands. Its rays were thrown upon her face, broken by the shadows of the leaves and twigs. The work did not proceed rapidly, for Kasya was tired from heat and running in the woods. Her sunburnt hands moved slowly at her work. The warm breeze kissed her temples and face, and the voices of the forest lulled her to sleep. Her large eyes became heavy and drowsy; her eyelashes began to close slowly; she leaned her head against the stone, opened her eyes once more as a child looking upon the divine beauty of the world; then the noise of the trees, the rows of the stumps, the ground full of pine needles, and the skies that could be seen between the branches all became indistinct, darkened, dissolved, disappeared--and she smiled and slept. Her head was hidden in a soft shade, but the covering of her breast shone all rosy and purple. Her soft breathing lifted her bosom gently; so wonderful and beautiful she looked in this quiet sleep in the evening rays that John looked upon her as if upon the image of a saint, glorious with gold, and colored as the rainbow.

Kasya's hands were clinging yet to the unfinished garland of herbs.

She slept with a sleep light and sweet, for she smiled through her dreams as a child who speaks with the angels. Perhaps she verily conversed with angels, for pure she was as a child, and had dedicated her whole day to the service of G.o.d by gathering and weaving the garlands for His temple.

John was sitting by her side, but he did not sleep. His simple breast could not contain the feelings that arose there; he felt as if his soul had got wings and was preparing to fly away to the realms of heaven. He knew not what was happening to him, and he only raised his eyes to the skies and was motionless; you would say that love had transfigured him.

Kasya slumbered on, and for a long time they both remained there.

Meanwhile the dusk came. The remnants of the purple light fought with the darkness. The interior of the woods deepened--became dumb. From the canes of the lake near the glade with its cottage came the buzzing of a night beetle.

Suddenly on the other side of the lake from the church rang out the Angelus bell. Its tones floated on the wings of the evening breeze over the face of the quiet waters, clear, resonant, and distinct. It called the faithful to prayer, and also proclaimed: "Rest! Enough of work and the heat of the day," spoke the bell. "Wrap yourself to sleep in the wing of G.o.d. Come, come ye weary to Him--in Him is joy! Here is peace! here gladness! here sleep! here sleep! here sleep!"

John took off his hat at the sound of the bell, Kasya shook the sleep from her eyes, and said:

"The bell rings."

"For the Angel of the Lord."

Both kneeled near by the mossy stone as if before an altar. Kasya began to pray with a low, soft voice:

"The Angel of the Lord declared unto Mary,"

"And she conceived by the Holy Ghost," answered John.