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Updated: May 3, 2025
Quails were in hundreds around; corncrakes were calling to one another in the thickets. . . . Gerasim could not hear them; he could not hear the delicate night-whispering of the trees, by which his strong legs carried him, but he smelt the familiar scent of the ripening rye, which was wafted from the dark fields; he felt the wind, flying to meet him the wind from home beat caressingly upon his face, and play with his hair and his beard.
Quails were in hundreds around; corncrakes were calling to one another in the thickets.... Gerasim could not hear them; he could not hear the delicate night-whispering of the trees, by which his strong legs carried him, but he smelt the familiar scent of the ripening rye, which was wafted from the dark fields; he felt the wind, flying to meet him the wind from home beat caressingly upon his face, and play with his hair and his beard.
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