"Is it really?"

"Yes, really. Moreover, it is warmer than the water of the
streams hereabouts, which is as cold as ice."

"Ah! Well, you know best."

Here a shaggy-eared pony, all skin and bone, was seen
approaching us at a foot's pace. Trembling, and drooping its
head, it scanned us, as it drew level, with a round black eye,
and snorted. Upon that, its rider pushed back a ragged fur cap,
glanced warily in our direction, and again sank his head.

"The folk of these parts are ugly to look at," softly commented
the woman from Orlov.

Then I departed in quest of water. After I had washed my face
and hands I filled the kettle from a stream bright and lively as
quicksilver (a stream presenting, as the autumn leaves tossed in
the eddies which went leaping and singing over the stones, a
truly enchanting spectacle), and, returning, and peeping through
the bushes, perceived the woman to be crawling on hands and
knees over the stones, and anxiously peering about, as though in
search of something.

"What is it? " I inquired, and thereupon, turning grey in the
face with confusion she hastened to conceal some article under
her person, although I had already guessed the nature of the
article.