"Not far, if you peep through the folds of your cloak you will see the domes over yonder. Are you weary, Kaya?"

"No--Velasco."

The voice came in little gasps, as if blown by the gale, fluttering like a leaf that is tossed hither and thither. The older boy bent his head, struggling forward.

"The wind is like a dagger," he stammered, "it cuts through the cloak like an edge of fine steel, like a poignard piercing the heart. Come closer, Kaya, and let me put my arm around you. Your body sways like a frail stem, a flower. You are stumbling and your breath freezes, even as it comes through your lips. Come closer, or you will fall, Kaya. Let me put my arm around you."

"It is nothing, Velasco; only the snow that whirls before my eyes and blinds them. Is that the dawn, those faint, grey streaks in the distance?"

"You are stumbling again, Kaya! It is wonderful the way you have tramped the whole night through. We are almost there."

"It is only my feet, Velasco; they are frozen a little by the snow, and numb. That is nothing for a boy. Let us run a race together. Come!"

"The wind mocks at you, little one. Run in such a blast--fight rather!

Put your head down and battle with it. The demon! Keep behind me a little; use my cloak and my arm as a shield. It is not far now."

"Shall we stop at the inn, Velasco; is it safe, do you think? There is one on the market-place."

"Yes, why not?"

"I was there once before, Velasco, with my--with my maid!" The girl laughed.

"You pant, Kaya, and your breath comes in jerks. Are you frightened?"

"No, Velasco--no!"

"They will look for us in the trains and the boats, but never in the snow-fields and the market-places. Kaya, we will tramp as long as you are able to bear it, and then--"

"Then--Velasco?"

"We will take the train at some smaller station--Dvisk, Vilna--wherever we can."

"You, Velasco, but not I."

"Both of us. I will never leave you again. In my pocket are pa.s.sports, blank; I bribed the official. We will fill them in together: two gypsies, one dark and one fair. Ha, Kaya--keep up--a little further!

See, the domes are bigger now and nearer, and the road goes straight without winding."

"Velasco--I cannot walk! I cannot see! Everything whirls before me in a mist Go! Leave me--I am falling--"

The older gypsey gave a despairing look over the snow-fields; they were bare, and white, and glistening. The golden ball of the sun had begun to climb slowly and the shafts had grown suddenly yellow. Across the icy surface of the pond the wind whistled, lashing him in the face as with a whip. The road was narrow and deserted. They were alone, and the form of the younger boy lay against him unconscious, inert, half sunk in the snow.

Velas...o...b..nt over his companion, chafing the hands, the cheeks; they were cold like ice. He gave another despairing glance around; then he lifted the form in his stiffening arms and carried it slowly, laboriously forward, plodding each step; his head bent, his teeth grit together, fighting his way.

The shafts lengthened across the sky; the domes grew larger and began to glitter in the rays of the sunlight; by the side of the road houses appeared, straggling at first, then nearer together. Suddenly, behind them, came the tinkle of sleigh-bells, and the crunching of snow beaten in by the weight of hoofs.

"O--O!"

Velasco stepped aside with his burden and stared at the sleigh as it approached. It was a cart, roughly set on runners, drawn by a pair of long-haired ponies; while fastened behind was a mare, and two wild-eyed colts following.

The peasant in the seat was wrapped in sheep-skin and smoking a short, thick pipe held between his teeth.

"O--O! Is that a corpse you hold there, Bradjaga?" he cried. His voice was hardly distinguishable above the roaring of the gale.

"For the love of heaven," shouted Velasco, "Moujik, if you have a heart under your sheep-skin, let me lay my comrade in the cart! He is faint with the cold, benumbed. We have tramped all night in the snow. Are you bound for the market at Belaa? Hey, stop! Moujik--stop!"

"Get in," said the peasant, "The ponies rear and dance as if Satan were on their backs, and the mare is like one possessed! It is good to see the sun. Get in, Bradjaga, and if the burden in your arms is no corpse it will soon become one! The night has been h.e.l.l. Bozhe moi! At the first crossing to the left is a tea-house--Get along you brutes!--Pour the vodka into his throat; it will sting him to life!"

The ponies dashed forward, the mare and the foals running behind.

Velasco sat huddled on the floor of the cart, his violin and the knapsack slung from his shoulders; his arms still clasping the slight, dark form, protecting it from the jolting of the runners. He was muttering to it under his breath:

"Kaya--poor little one! Your curls are damp against my cheek; your forehead is ice! Courage, little comrade. Now--your heart beats faster--your eye-lids are flickering! Another moment and you will be warm and safe. The lights of the tea-house are ahead. Moujik--faster!

We will drink a gla.s.s of vodka together, all three! Faster--faster!"

As the sleigh dashed into the court-yard, the great red ball of the sun rose above the distant tree-tops; and behind the stables a c.o.c.k began to crow, slowly, feebly at first, as if just awake and stretching his wings.

When Kaya came to consciousness again, she was lying on a pile of straw in a low raftered room. She had dreamt that she was chained and in prison, and that something was choking her and weighing on her breast; but when she tried to move her limbs, she found that it was the blankets, wrapping her closely; and when she opened her eyes, she saw the face of Velas...o...b..nding over her, and he was trying to force some wine through her clenched lips.

"Where am I?" said Kaya faintly, "You are choking me, Velasco!"

She struggled to a sitting posture, leaning on one elbow, and peered up into his face. "What has happened?" she said again, "Where are we? I thought we were tramping through the snow and my feet were frozen! You are pale, Velasco, and your eyes are heavy!--Have I slept?"

Velasco glanced over his shoulder, and then brought his lips close to her face and whispered: "You fainted and I carried you in my arms; the Moujik brought us here in his cart. You opened your eyes once, and then when we laid you on the straw you fell asleep. You slept so long I was frightened, Kaya--if it had not been for your jacket moving under the blankets, rising and falling softly with the beat of your heart, you might have been dead; you were so still! Poor little one, you were exhausted. Drink a little and eat!"

"What time is it, Velasco?"

"The sun was rising when we drove into the court and now, in another hour or two, it will be setting."

Kaya put her hand to her cropped yellow curls, and then she looked at him and a dimple came in her cheek:

"I forgot about being a boy," she murmured, "Is this what you call an inn, Velasco? It looks like a stable!"

"It is a stable."

Kaya looked at him again and began to laugh softly: "I forgot about being a gypsey," she said, "Your clothes are ragged and torn, Velasco; they are worse than they were that night in your Studio. And I--tell me--how do I look?"

"Like a little Bradjaga, sweet, and disreputable, and boyish!"

Kaya drew herself slowly to her knees and then to her feet, brushing the straw from her velveteen trousers and the sleeves of her jacket. "They wouldn't let us in the inn because we were gypsies, was that it? They were afraid we would steal?"

The dimples came back in her face and she picked up her cap from the floor, dusting it with her elbow and cramming it down on the back of her curls. "Steal me a little bread, Velasco, I am hungry."

"Come back to your nest in the straw, Kaya; put your fingers in my pocket and steal for yourself. I bought a loaf with a couple of copecks, and some honey-cake. At sun-down, when the peasants come for their vodka, there will be a dance. They have never danced to a Stradivarius before; but they won't know the difference, Kaya, not they! We will pay for the straw with a rollicking waltz--Ha ha!"

The gypsey musician caught his comrade by the arm and pulled her down on the straw beside him.

"Which pocket, Velasco? Oh, I feel the honey-cake bulging! Give it to me."