NikolayandOlgarealizedfromthefirstglancewhatlifewaslikehere，butsaidnothingtooneanother；insilencetheyputdowntheirbundles，andwentoutintothevillagestreet。Theirhutwasthethirdfromtheend，andseemedtheverypoorestandoldest-looking；thesecondwasnotmuchbetter；butthelastonehadanironroof，andcurtainsinthewindows。Thathutstoodapart，notenclosed；itwasatavern。Thehutswereinasinglerow，andthewholeofthelittlevillage——quietanddreamy，withwillows，elders，andmountain-ashtreespeepingoutfromtheyards——hadanattractivelook。
Beyondthepeasantshomesteadstherewasaslopedowntotheriver，sosteepandprecipitousthathugestonesjuttedoutbarehereandtherethroughtheclay。Downtheslope，amongthestonesandholesdugbythepotters，ranwindingpaths；bitsofbrokenpottery，somebrown，somered，laypiledupinheaps，andbelowtherestretchedabroad，level，brightgreenmeadow，fromwhichthehayhadbeenalreadycarried，andinwhichthepeasants’
cattlewerewandering。Theriver，three-quartersofamilefromthevillage，rantwistingandturning，withbeautifulleafybanks；beyonditwasagainabroadmeadow，aherdofcattle，longstringsofwhitegeese；then，justasonthenearside，asteepascentuphill，andonthetopofthehillahamlet，andachurchwithfivedomes，andatalittledistancethemanor-house。
“It’slovelyhereinyourparts！“saidOlga，crossingherselfatthesightofthechurch。“Whatspace，ohLord！“
JustatthatmomentthebellbeganringingforserviceitwasSaturdayevening。Twolittlegirls，downbelow，whoweredraggingupapailofwater，lookedroundatthechurchtolistentothebell。