'You and I have nothing to do with one another' was what Maryanka's firm step gave him to understand.

He followed her with his eyes to the porch of the hut, and he even saw her through the window take off her kerchief and sit down.
And suddenly a feeling of lonely depression and some vague longings and hopes, and envy of someone or other, overcame the young man's soul.
The last lights had been put out in the huts.

The last sounds had died away in the village.

The wattle fences and the cattle gleaming white in the yards, the roofs of the houses and the stately poplars, all seemed to be sleeping the labourers' healthy peaceful sleep.

Only the incessant ringing voices of frogs from the damp distance reached the young man.