Читать книгу The Old House, and Other Tales - Fyodor Sologub - Страница 19

Glasha goes. She hurries to the veranda staircase.

Here she washes herself a second time in a clay turn-over basin, which is attached by a rope to one of the posts of the veranda; she quickly plunges her face and hands in the water that had been left there overnight. She splashes the water a long way off on the green grass, on the lilac-grey planks of the staircase and on her feet, which are red from the early morning freshness and from the tender contact with the dewy grass in the vegetable garden. She laughs happily at herself—because she is a young, healthy girl, because the early morning freshness caresses the length of her strong, swift body with brisk cool strokes; and finally, because not far away, in the village, there is a lively and handsome young fellow, not unlike herself, who pays attention to her and whom she is rather fond of. It is true that her mother scolds her on his account, because the young man is poor. But what's that to Glasha? Not for nothing is there an adage:

"Without bread 'tis very sad,

Still sadder 'tis without a lad."

Glasha laughs loudly and merrily.

Stepanida cries at her from the kitchen window: "Glash, Glash, why do you neigh like a horse?"

Glasha laughs, makes no reply, and goes off.

Stepanida puts her simple, red face out of the window and asks: "I wonder what's the matter with her."

She receives no answer, for there is no one to reply. Out of doors all is deserted. Only somewhere from behind the barn the languid voices of working-men can be heard.