I was standing alone by the Cross watching a long trail of wagons cross the bridge far beneath me, watching too a high bank of black cloud that was passing away from the sky above the forest, blown by a wind that rolled the surface of the river into silver.

He too had come to look at the view and was surprised and disturbed at finding me there.

Of course he was exaggerated in expressions of pleasure: "Why, Ivan Andreievitch, this is delightful!" he cried.

"If I only had known we might have walked here together!" We sat down on the stone seat.
"You don't think it will rain ?" he asked anxiously.

"No, those clouds are going away, I see.