people; then a horse's skeleton lying white in a field. And larks sang untiredly; quails cried to one another; and the landrail cried with a sound like the drawing of an old bolt.
At midday Olga and Sasha reached a big village, and, in the broad street, came upon General Zhukoff's old cook. He was hot, and his red, sweating bald patch shone in the sun. At first he did not recognise Olga; then he looked and recognised her, but both, without exchanging a word, continued their paths. Olga stopped and bowed low before the open windows of a hut which seemed richer and newer than its neighbours, and cried in a loud, thin, and singing voice —
“Orthodox Christians, give alms for the love of Christ; Kingdom of Heaven to your father and mother, eternal rest.”
“Orthodox Christians,” echoed little Sasha. “Give for the love of Christ, Heavenly Kingdom. . .”
