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“That’s all about it, thank God!” he exclaimed.

“What?” sniggered Boev, now both disillusioned and astonished. “Do you really mean to say that that leg of yours is better already? Or do you mean that it never was injured at all? “

“Ah! So you wish that it HAD been injured, eh?”

“The rascal of a Petrushka!” the other exclaimed.

“Now,” commanded Ossip, “do all of you be off, mates.” And with that he pulled his wet cap on to his head.

I accompanied him–walking a little behind the rest. As he limped along, he said in an undertone-said kindly– and as though he were communicating a secret known only to himself:

“Whatsoever one may do, and whithersoever one may turn, one will find that life cannot be lived without a measure of fraud and deceit. For that is what life IS, Makarei, the devil fly away with it! . . . I suppose you’re making for the hill? Well, I’ll keep you company.”

Darkness had fallen, but at a certain spot some red and yellow lamps, lamps the beams of which seemed to be saying, “Come up hither!” were shining through the obscurity.

Meanwhile, as we proceeded in the direction of the bells that were ringing on the hill, rivulets of water flowed with a murmur under our feet, and Ossip’s kindly voice kept mingling with their sound.

“See,” he continued, “how easily I befooled that sergeant! That is how things have to be done, Makarei–one has to keep folk from knowing one’s business, yet to make them think that they are the chief persons concerned, and the persons whose wit has put the cap on the whole.”

Yet as I listened to his speech, while supporting his steps, I could make little of it.

Nor did I care to make very much of it, for I was of a simple and easygoing nature. And though at the moment I could not have told whether I really liked Ossip, I would still have followed his lead in any direction–yes, even across the river again, though the ice had been giving way beneath me.

And as we proceeded, and the bells echoed and re-echoed, I thought to myself with a spasm of joy:

“Ah, many times may I thus walk to greet the spring!”

While Ossip said with a sigh:

“The human soul is a winged thing. Even in sleep it flies.”

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A winged thing? Yes, and a thing of wonder.