Savkawasayoungmanoffive-and-twenty，wellgrownandhandsome，andasstrongasaflint。Hehadthereputationofbeingasensibleandreasonablefellow。Hecouldreadandwrite，andveryrarelydrank，butasaworkmanthisstrongandhealthyyoungmanwasnotworthafarthing。Asluggish，overpoweringslothwasmingledwiththestrengthinhismuscles，whichwerestrongascords。Likeeveryoneelseinhisvillage，helivedinhisownhut，andhadhisshareofland，butneithertilleditnorsowedit，anddidnotworkatanysortoftrade。Hisoldmotherbeggedalmsatpeople’swindowsandhehimselflivedlikeabirdoftheair；hedidnotknowinthemorningwhathewouldeatatmidday。Itwasnotthathewaslackinginwill，orenergy，orfeelingforhismother；itwassimplythathefeltnoinclinationforworkanddidnotrecognizetheadvantageofit。Hiswholefiguresuggestedunruffledserenity，aninnate，almostartisticpassionforlivingcarelessly，neverwithhissleevestuckedup。
WhenSavka’syoung，healthybodyhadaphysicalcravingformuscularwork，theyoungmanabandonedhimselfcompletelyforabriefintervaltosomefreebutnonsensicalpursuit，suchassharpeningskatesnotwantedforanyspecialpurpose，orracingaboutafterthepeasantwomen。Hisfavoriteattitudewasoneofconcentratedimmobility。Hewascapableofstandingforhoursatastretchinthesameplacewithhiseyesfixedonthesamespotwithoutstirring。Henevermovedexceptonimpulse，andthenonlywhenanoccasionpresenteditselfforsomerapidandabruptaction:catchingarunningdogbythetail，pullingoffawoman’skerchief，orjumpingoverabighole。ItneedhardlybesaidthatwithsuchparsimonyofmovementSavkawasaspoorasamouseandlivedworsethananyhomelessoutcast。Astimewenton，I
supposeheaccumulatedarrearsoftaxesand，youngandsturdyashewas，hewassentbythecommunetodoanoldman’sjob——tobewatchmanandscarecrowinthekitchengardens。Howevermuchtheylaughedathimforhisprematuresenilityhedidnotobjecttoit。Thisposition，quietandconvenientformotionlesscontemplation，exactlyfittedhistemperament。
IthappenedIwaswiththisSavkaonefineMayevening。I
rememberIwaslyingonatornanddirtysackclothcoverclosetotheshantyfromwhichcameaheavy，fragrantscentofhay。
ClaspingmyhandsundermyheadIlookedbeforeme。Atmyfeetwaslyingawoodenfork。BehinditSavka’sdogKutkastoodoutlikeablackpatch，andnotadozenfeetfromKutkathegroundendedabruptlyinthesteepbankofthelittleriver。LyingdownIcouldnotseetheriver；Icouldonlyseethetopsoftheyoungwillowsgrowingthicklyonthenearerbank，andthetwisting，asitweregnawedaway，edgesoftheoppositebank。AtadistancebeyondthebankonthedarkhillsidethehutsofthevillageinwhichSavkalivedlayhuddlingtogetherlikefrightenedyoungpartridges。Beyondthehilltheafterglowofsunsetstilllingeredinthesky。Onepalecrimsonstreakwasallthatwasleft，andeventhatbegantobecoveredbylittlecloudsasafirewithash。
Acopsewithalder-trees，softlywhispering，andfromtimetotimeshudderinginthefitfulbreeze，lay，adarkblur，ontherightofthekitchengardens；ontheleftstretchedtheimmenseplain。Inthedistance，wheretheeyecouldnotdistinguishbetweentheskyandtheplain，therewasabrightgleamoflight。
AlittlewayofffrommesatSavka。WithhislegstuckedunderhimlikeaTurkandhisheadhanging，helookedpensivelyatKutka。Ourhookswithlivebaitonthemhadlongbeenintheriver，andwehadnothinglefttodobuttoabandonourselvestorepose，whichSavka，whowasneverexhaustedandalwaysrested，lovedsomuch。Theglowhadnotyetquitediedaway，butthesummernightwasalreadyenfoldingnatureinitscaressing，soothingembrace。
Everythingwassinkingintoitsfirstdeepsleepexceptsomenightbirdunfamiliartome，whichindolentlyutteredalong，protractedcryinseveraldistinctnoteslikethephrase，“HaveyouseenNi-ki-ta？“andimmediatelyanswereditself，“Seenhim，seenhim，seenhim！“
“Whyisitthenightingalesaren’tsingingtonight？“IaskedSavka。
Heturnedslowlytowardsme。Hisfeatureswerelarge，buthisfacewasopen，soft，andexpressiveasawoman’s。Thenhegazedwithhismild，dreamyeyesatthecopse，atthewillows，slowlypulledawhistleoutofhispocket，putitinhismouthandwhistledthenoteofahen-nightingale。Andatonce，asthoughinanswertohiscall，alandrailcalledontheoppositebank。
“There’sanightingaleforyou“laughedSavka。“Drag-drag！
drag-drag！justlikepullingatahook，andyetIbethethinksheissinging，too。“
“Ilikethatbird，“Isaid。“Doyouknow，whenthebirdsaremigratingthelandraildoesnotfly，butrunsalongtheground？
Itonlyfliesovertheriversandthesea，butalltherestitdoesonfoot。“
“Uponmyword，thedog“mutteredSavka，lookingwithrespectinthedirectionofthecallinglandrail。
KnowinghowfondSavkawasoflistening，ItoldhimallIhadlearnedaboutthelandrailfromsportsman’sbooks。FromthelandrailIpassedimperceptiblytothemigrationofthebirds。
Savkalistenedattentively，lookingatmewithoutblinking，andsmilingallthewhilewithpleasure。
“Andwhichcountryismostthebird’shome？Oursorthoseforeignparts？“heasked。
“Ours，ofcourse。Thebirditselfishatchedhere，andithatchesoutitslittleoneshereinitsnativecountry，andtheyonlyflyofftheretoescapebeingfrozen。“
“It’sinteresting，“saidSavka。“Whateveronetalksaboutitisalwaysinteresting。Takeabirdnow，oramanortakethislittlestone；there’ssomethingtolearnaboutallofthem。
Ah，sir，ifIhadknownyouwerecomingIwouldn’thavetoldawomantocomeherethisevening。Sheaskedtocometo-day。“
“Oh，pleasedon’tletmebeinyourway，“Isaid。“Icanliedowninthewood。“
“Whatnext！Shewouldn’thavediedifshehadn’tcometillto-morrow。Ifonlyshewouldsitquietandlisten，butshealwayswantstobeslobbering。Youcan’thaveagoodtalkwhenshe’shere。“
“AreyouexpectingDarya？“Iasked，afterapause。
“NoanewonehasaskedtocomethiseveningAgafya，thesignalman’swife。“
Savkasaidthisinhisusualpassionless，somewhathollowvoice，asthoughheweretalkingoftobaccoorporridge，whileIstartedwithsurprise。IknewAgafya。Shewasquiteayoungpeasantwomanofnineteenortwenty，whohadbeenmarriednotmorethanayearbeforetoarailwaysignalman，afineyoungfellow。Shelivedinthevillage，andherhusbandcamehometherefromthelineeverynight。
“Yourgoingsonwiththewomenwillleadtotrouble，myboy，“
saidI。
“Well，maybe“
Andafteramoment’sthoughtSavkaadded:
“I’vesaidsotothewomen；theywon’theedme。Theydon’ttroubleaboutit，thesillythings！“
Silencefollowed。Meanwhilethedarknesswasgrowingthickerandthicker，andobjectsbegantolosetheircontours。
Thestreakbehindthehillhadcompletelydiedaway，andthestarsweregrowingbrighterandmoreluminous。Themournfullymonotonouschirpingofthegrasshoppers，thecallofthelandrail，andthecryofthequaildidnotdestroythestillnessofthenight，but，onthecontrary，gaveitanaddedmonotony。Itseemedasthoughthesoftsoundsthatenchantedtheearcame，notfrombirdsorinsects，butfromthestarslookingdownuponusfromthesky。
Savkawasthefirsttobreakthesilence。HeslowlyturnedhiseyesfromblackKutkaandsaid:
“Iseeyouaredull，sir。Let’shavesupper。“
Andwithoutwaitingformyconsenthecreptonhisstomachintotheshanty，rummagedaboutthere，makingthewholeedificetremblelikealeaf；thenhecrawledbackandsetbeforememyvodkaandanearthenwarebowl；inthebowltherewerebakedeggs，lardsconesmadeofrye，piecesofblackbread，andsomethingelse。Wehadadrinkfromalittlecrookedglassthatwouldn’tstand，andthenwefelluponthefood。Coarsegreysalt，dirty，greasycakes，eggstoughasindia-rubber，buthowniceitallwas！
“Youliveallalone，butwhatlotsofgoodthingsyouhave，“I
said，pointingtothebowl。“Wheredoyougetthemfrom？“
“Thewomenbringthem，“mumbledSavka。
“Whatdotheybringthemtoyoufor？“
“Ohfrompity。“
NotonlySavka’smenu，buthisclothing，too，boretracesoffeminine“pity。“ThusInoticedthathehadon，thatevening，anewwovenbeltandacrimsonribbononwhichacoppercrosshungroundhisdirtyneck。IknewoftheweaknessofthefairsexforSavka，andIknewthathedidnotliketalkingaboutit，andsoI
didnotcarrymyinquiriesanyfurther。Besidestherewasnottimetotalk。Kutka，whohadbeenfidgetingaboutnearusandpatientlywaitingforscraps，suddenlyprickeduphisearsandgrowled。Weheardinthedistancerepeatedsplashingofwater。
“Someoneiscomingbytheford，“saidSavka。
ThreeminuteslaterKutkagrowledagainandmadeasoundlikeacough。
“Shsh！“hismastershoutedathim。
Inthedarknesstherewasamuffledthudoftimidfootsteps，andthesilhouetteofawomanappearedoutofthecopse。Irecognizedher，althoughitwasdark——itwasAgafya。Shecameuptousdiffidentlyandstopped，breathinghard。Shewasbreathless，probablynotsomuchfromwalkingasfromfearandtheunpleasantsensationeveryoneexperiencesinwadingacrossariveratnight。
Seeingneartheshantynotonebuttwopersons，sheutteredafaintcryandfellbackastep。
“Ahthatisyou！“saidSavka，stuffingasconeintohismouth。
“Ye-esI，“shemuttered，droppingonthegroundabundleofsomesortandlookingsidewaysatme。“Yakovsenthisgreetingstoyouandtoldmetogiveyousomethinghere。