as if it peeped out, and then withdrew itself again into the corner. Ivan stood still, as still as a mouse, he listened and he looked—all was still, only the wind made the little leaves shiver on the branches of the willows, and skimmed along the straw. It was dark enough to put one's eyes out, but Ivan strained his eyes through the darkness till he saw the whole corner, and the plough and the projecting eaves. There he stood and looked, and there was nothing.
"'Tis plain I must have dreamt it," thought Ivan, "but I'll go my rounds all the same," and he stole softly round along the outhouses.
Ivan stepped very quietly on the tips of his toes, so as not even to hear his own steps. He went right to the very corner and looked, at the end of it something was sparkling by the plough, and disappeared again. Ivan felt as if something had struck him to the very heart. He stood stock-still. No sooner had he stood still than the light burst forth more brightly than ever, and he saw quite plainly a man with his back towards him crouching down. He had a cap on, and little wisps of straw in his hands which he was lighting. Ivan's heart beat in his breast like a captive bird. He swelled with rage, and advanced with rapid strides. He no longer heeded the sound of his own footsteps.
"Now," thought he, "there's no escaping, I'll catch him on the very spot."
Ivan had not advanced two steps, when suddenly the light grew brighter and brighter, there was no longer a little patch of fire there, but the straw leaped up in flame beneath the eaves and caught the roof;
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