There must have been about forty of them there. They were drinking to get drunk, and there was so much foul language that we couldn’t get out quickly enough. In the morning, when Mother Natalya woke me, most of the flaxbeaters had gone. There were only three of them left, and they were tying their travelling-bags to their scutchers. We did up our bags, too, paid one-and-a-half copecks for our night’s lodgings, and also left. When we were out of the village we looked behind us and saw that those same three flaxbeaters were on our tail. Well, if they were, they were. We thought nothing of it. Only Mother Natalya remarked: “That’s funny! Yesterday,” she said, “those same flaxbeaters said after they’d had their supper that they were headed for Oryol, yet today – look, they’re following us to Amchensk.” We continued on our way, and the flaxbeaters kept following us at a distance. And then we came to a small wood. As we approached it, the flaxbeaters began to catch up with us. We quickened our pace, but so did they. “What are you running for?” they said. “You won’t get away from us.” And then two of them grabbed Mother Natalya by the arms. She screamed in a voice that didn’t sound like her own, and Mother Alyona and I made a run for it. As we ran, they roared after us: “Get them, get them!” All we could hear was their bawling, and the cries of Mother Natalya. “They’ve probably slit her throat!” we thought, and that made us feel even worse. Alyona’s eyes were fairly popping out of her head, and my legs had given way under me. I realized I had no strength left, and so I threw myself under a bush. “What happens now is God’s will,” I thought, as I lay there getting my breath back. I kept expecting them to fly at us, but nobody came. All I could hear was them still struggling with Mother Natalya. “She’s a strong, healthy woman,” I thought. “They won’t be able to do her in.” It was quiet in the woods, I could hear every single sound. Suddenly I heard Mother Natalya give another scream. “Well,” I thought, “God rest her soul.” As for myself, I didn’t know whether to make a run for it or just lie there, and wait for some kind person to come along. Then I thought I heard someone coming close. I lay there more dead than alive, and peeped out from the bush. What do you think I saw, Brothers? It was Mother Natalya! Her black kerchief had fallen from her head; her light brown pigtail – it was a magnificent one – was all dishevelled; she was still clutching her bag, but she was stumbling. “I’ll call out to her,” I thought; and I did so, but only in an undertone.