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Updated: May 29, 2025
The Hishtanyi Chayan was sitting at the same place where he had retired a few hours before, but he no longer prayed; he stared motionless. Tyope lay on his back behind a juniper-bush. He was watching the sky and the approach of dawn. A number of warriors had lain down in the vicinity, awaiting the signal to move.
The white heath lay silent. Deep under the snow lay the withered flowers, and where a juniper-bush had stood before there was now a little white heap that looked like a mole-hill. Even the stems of the pollard willows were white, but only on the side against which the wind had blown. Painfully he walked on across the snow-covered heath, at every step sinking in over his ankles.
"Before I sing give me a kiss!" A short struggle; then his voice: "What? first you want one, and then you struggle, you cat!" "Here I am." "Leave go! d n it, you scratch!" "If you take another girl I will scratch out your eyes!" "Anything else?" "No; I will lie down under a juniper-bush and starve myself to death. You must come to my funeral. Oh, that will be beautiful!
So Tyope crept back to the juniper-bush in whose neighbourhood his men were grouped. Dawn was coming on, and the shadows were beginning to assume definite shapes and directions. Tyope sighed when he noticed the approach of sunlight; precious time was being irretrievably lost. He relieved the warrior whom he had left at his post. The latter whispered to him that nothing suspicious had turned up.
His foolish dreams which he had had under the juniper-bush to-day occurred to him. "So it is with everything that I fancy to myself," he thought. "I have still one of your books, Elsbeth," he said then. "I know, I know," she answered, looking up at him with a smile. "Pardon me that I " "Oh, what a fidget you are," she jested.
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