"It was quite interesting in there," said Yourii half apologetically.
"Only the passage does not lead very far. It has been filled up. We saw
some rotten planks lying about."
"Did you hear us fire?" asked Sina, and her eyes sparkled.
"My friends," shouted Ivanoff, interrupting, "we have drunk all the
beer, and our souls are abundantly refreshed. Let us be going."
By the time that the boat reached a broader part of the stream the moon
had already risen. It was a strangely calm, clear evening. Above and
below, in the heaven as in the river, the golden stars gleamed. It was
as if the boat was suspended between two fathomless spaces. The dark
woods at the edge of the stream had a look of mystery. A nightingale
sang, and all listened in silence, not believing it to be a bird, but
rather some joyous dreamer in the gloom. Removing her large straw hat,
Sina Karsavina now began to sing a Russian popular air, sweet and sad
like all Russian songs. Her voice, a high soprano, though not powerful,
was sympathetic in quality.
Ivanoff muttered, "That's sweet!" and Sanine exclaimed "Charming!" When
she had finished they all clapped their hands and the sound was echoed
strangely in the dark woods on either side.
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