There was not a sound of footsteps to be heard.

Foma now longed to call the woman, but he did not know her name.

Eagerly inhaling the fresh air into his broad chest, he stood on deck for a few minutes.

Suddenly, from beyond the roundhouse--from the prow--a moan reached his ears--a deep, loud moan, resembling a wail.

He shuddered and went thither carefully, understanding that she was there.
She sat on the deck close to the side of the steamer, and, leaning her head against a heap of ropes, she wept.