From the dairy chimney rises a thin cloud of kisyak smoke: the milk is being used to make into clotted cream.

The girl makes up the fire while her mother goes to the gate.
Twilight has fallen on the village.

The air is full of the smell of vegetables, cattle, and scented kisyak smoke.

From the gates and along the streets Cossack women come running, carrying lighted rags.

From the yards one hears the snorting and quiet chewing of the cattle eased of their milk, while in the street only the voices of women and children sound as they call to one another.