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Updated: June 9, 2025
Elisaveta's clothes were very simple. They consisted of a greenish yellow, not over-long tunic-dress without sleeves, and a plain straw hat. Elisaveta nearly always wore yellow dresses. She loved yellow, she loved buttercups and gold, and though she sometimes said that she wore yellow in order to soften her ruddy complexion, she really loved it simply, sincerely, and for its own sake.
"Two men against one woman aren't you ashamed?" said Elisaveta. "Don't be ashamed, my lass, and lie down on the grass," exclaimed the handsome, swarthy one, with a laugh very much like a horse's neigh. His white teeth gleamed, his eyes flamed with desire, as he tore Elisaveta's clothes with his hands and his teeth. The red and the white roses of her body were soon bared.
At this moment the sisters were standing breast-high in the water, near the overgrown bank. The schoolboy who sat on his heels behind the bush heard Elisaveta's words. He grew cold in his confusion, and began to crawl on all-fours between the bushes, away from the river.
Rameyev came up to them. He greeted his visitors pleasantly but coldly, giving an impression of studied correctness. The conversation continued somewhat awkwardly. Elisaveta's blue eyes looked gently and pensively at the irritated Piotr and at his deliberately inimical adversary Stchemilov. Piotr asked: "Mr. Stchemilov, would you care to explain to me this talk of an autocracy by the proletariat?
There, near the hollow, by the spring." Elisaveta's blue eyes appeared to him suddenly as in a flame. Where was she? Was she in a difficulty? And his heart fell into the dark abyss of fear. Kirsha made haste. He almost cried in his agitation. They went on horseback. They whipped up their horses. They feared they might be too late. Again the quiet, dark, intensely pensive wood.
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