Suddenly a mighty crash was heard in the forest, about ten paces from them. Both of them were startled and grasped their guns, but they could not see anything; they could only hear the breaking of branches. The swift, even thud of a gallop could be heard for a moment; then the crackling passed into a hollow din, farther and farther away, and reechoing farther and farther through the quiet forest. Olénin felt as though something was breaking in his heart. He gazed in vain into the green thicket, and finally looked at the old man. Uncle Eróshka stood immovable, pressing his gun to his chest; his cap was poised on the back of his head; his eyes were burning with an uncommon brilliancy; and his mouth, showing its well-worn yellow teeth, remained open, as though petrified.
"A horned stag!" he said. He threw his gun down in despair, and began to pull his gray beard. "Here he stood! I ought to have walked up from the path! Fool! Fool!" and he tugged his beard in anger. "Fool! Hog!" he repeated, painfully pulling his beard.
It looked as though something were flying by, above the forest, in the mist. Farther and farther away resounded the gallop of the stag.
Olénin and the old man returned at twilight. He was weary, hungry, and full of strength. The dinner was ready. He ate and drank with the old man, and feeling warm and gay, he walked out on the porch. Again the mountains in the west rose before his eyes. Again the old man told his endless stories about hunting, about abréks, and about mistresses, ——about a careless, adventurous life. Again fair Maryánka walked in and out, and crossed the yard. Under her shirt was clearly outlined the powerful, virgin body of the fair maiden.
