Page:The Kiss and Other Stories by Anton Tchekhoff, 1908.pdf/203

 prayed, lay down in the cart, and covered himself with a coat; to increase his comfort he made a hollow in the hay, and bent in two until his elbows touched his knees. From the yard could be seen Diudya, lighting a candle in the lower story; after which he took his spectacles, stood in the comer with a book, bowed before the ikon, and read.

The travellers slept. Afanasievna and Sophia crept up to the cart, and looked at Kuzka.

“The orphan's asleep,” said the old woman. “All skin and bone, poor lad! No mother on earth, and no one to feed him on his journey.”

“My Grishutka, I think, is about two years older,” said Sophia. “He lives in that factory like a slave, and has no mother either. . . . His master beats him. When I first looked at this lad he reminded me of my Grishutka; the blood in my heart froze up.”

Five minutes passed in silence.

“I wonder does he remember his mother,” said the old woman.

“How should he remember?”

And from Sophia's eyes fell big tears.

“He's twisted himself into a roll,” she said, sobbing and laughing from pity and emotion. “Poor little orphan!”

Kuzka started and opened his eyes. He saw above him an ugly, wrinkled, tear-stained face; and near it another face, old and toothless, with a sharp chin and