flesh and spiritual nourishment the soul!"

"Learning is all very well," sighed Kuzmitchov, "but if we don't
overtake Varlamov, learning won't do much for us."

"A man isn't a needle--we shall find him. He must be going his
rounds in these parts."

Among the sedge were flying the three snipe they had seen before,
and in their plaintive cries there was a note of alarm and vexation
at having been driven away from the stream. The horses were steadily
munching and snorting. Deniska walked about by them and, trying to
appear indifferent to the cucumbers, pies, and eggs that the gentry
were eating, he concentrated himself on the gadflies and horseflies
that were fastening upon the horses' backs and bellies; he squashed
his victims apathetically, emitting a peculiar, fiendishly triumphant,
guttural sound, and when he missed them cleared his throat with an
air of vexation and looked after every lucky one that escaped death.

"Deniska, where are you? Come and eat," said Kuzmitchov, heaving a
deep sigh, a sign that he had had enough.

Deniska diffidently approached the mat and picked out five thick
and yellow cucumbers (he did not venture to take the smaller and
fresher ones), took two hard-boiled eggs that looked dark and were
cracked, then irresolutely, as though afraid he might get a blow
on his outstretched hand, touched a pie with his finger.

"Take them, take them," Kuzmitchov urged him on.