Page:The Kiss and Other Stories by Anton Tchekhoff, 1908.pdf/251

peasants bowed, the caUche rocked easily; its wheels raised whirls of dust borne by the wind upon the golden rye; and the princess felt that she rocked not on the carriage cushions but on the clouds above, and that she herself was a light, transparent cloud.

“How happy I am!” she whispered, closing her eyes. “How happy I am!”