In the east the stars were growing fewer and fewer and seemed to be melting in the increasing light, but overhead they were denser and deeper than before.

The old man was dozing with his head on his hand.

A cock crowed in the yard opposite, but Olenin still paced up and down thinking of something.

The sound of a song sung by several voices reached him and he stepped up to the fence and listened.

The voices of several young Cossacks carolled a merry song, and one voice was distinguishable among them all by its firm strength.
'Do you know who is singing there ?' said the old man, rousing himself.
'It is the Brave, Lukashka.