glitter of the scythes, it could be seen that the sultry heat was
baking and stifling. A black dog with its tongue hanging out ran
from the mowers to meet the chaise, probably with the intention of
barking, but stopped halfway and stared indifferently at Deniska,
who shook his whip at him; it was too hot to bark! One peasant woman
got up and, putting both hands to her aching back, followed
Yegorushka's red shirt with her eyes. Whether it was that the colour
pleased her or that he reminded her of her children, she stood a
long time motionless staring after him.

But now the wheat, too, had flashed by; again the parched plain,
the sunburnt hills, the sultry sky stretched before them; again a
hawk hovered over the earth. In the distance, as before, a windmill
whirled its sails, and still it looked like a little man waving his
arms. It was wearisome to watch, and it seemed as though one would
never reach it, as though it were running away from the chaise.

Father Christopher and Kuzmitchov were silent. Deniska lashed the
horses and kept shouting to them, while Yegorushka had left off
crying, and gazed about him listlessly. The heat and the tedium of
the steppes overpowered him. He felt as though he had been travelling
and jolting up and down for a very long time, that the sun had been
baking his back a long time. Before they had gone eight miles he
began to feel "It must be time to rest." The geniality gradually
faded out of his uncle's face and nothing else was left but the air
of business reserve; and to a gaunt shaven face, especially when
it is adorned with spectacles and the nose and temples are covered
with dust, this reserve gives a relentless, inquisitorial appearance.
Father Christopher never left off gazing with wonder at God's world,
and smiling. Without speaking, he brooded over something pleasant