Page:The Novels of Ivan Turgenev (volume VIII).djvu/175

 The boys were still. It was clear that Pavel's words had produced a strong impression on them. They began to lie down before the fire as though preparing to go to sleep. 'What is that?' asked Kostya, suddenly lifting his head. Pavel listened. 'It's the curlews flying and whistling.' 'Where are they flying to?' 'To a land where, they say, there is no winter.' 'But is there such a land?' 'Yes.' 'Is it far away?' 'Far, far away, beyond the warm seas.' Kostya sighed and shut his eyes. More than three hours had passed since I first came across the boys. The moon at last had risen; I did not notice it at first; it was such a tiny crescent. This moonless night was as solemn and hushed as it had been at first. But already many stars, that not long before had been high up in the heavens, were setting over the earth's dark rim; everything around was perfectly still, as it is only still towards morning; all was sleeping the deep unbroken sleep that comes before daybreak. Already the fragrance in the air was fainter; once more a dew seemed falling. How short are nights in summer! The boys' talk died down when the fires did. The dogs even were dozing; the horses, so far as I could make out, in the hardly-perceptible, faintly