sinewy woman, remarkably strong and equally remarkably ugly, who saw through all his simple wiles, guessed his intentions as usual.
"Where are you going, you wretch? To drink vodka alone?"
"Be quiet. I'm going to buy one bottle. We'll drink it together to-morrow."
He gave her a sly wink and clapped her on the shoulder with such force that she staggered. A woman's heart is like that; though she knew that Makar was deceiving her, she surrendered to the charms of that conjugal caress.
He went out of the house, caught his old piebald pony in the courtyard, led him by the mane to the sleigh, and put him in harness. The piebald soon carried Makar through the gates and then stopped and looked enquiringly at his Master, who was sit- ting plunged in thought. At this Makar pulled the left rein, and drove away to the outskirts of the village.
On the edge of the village stood a little hut out of which, as out of the other huts, the smoke of a little fire rose high, high into the air, veiling the bright moon and the white, glittering hosts of stars. The flames crackled merrily and sparkled through the dim icicles that hung about the doorway. All was quiet inside the courtyard gates.
Strangers from a foreign land lived here. How they had come, what tempest had cast them up in
