I am the first to know it, as long as the wind blows the right way. No, why should I anger God? There are many who are worse off than I am. For instance, when one is well, one may easily fall into sin. But from me, all sin has, as it were, passed aside. Father Alexis, our priest, was going to give me the sacrament the other day, and he said: 'You need not confess. What sin can you possibly commit in the state you're in?' 'But,' I replied: 'How about mental sins, Father?' 'Come,' says he, and smiled withal, 'those can be no great sins.'"

"Though, I dare say I've not done much even in the way of those same mental sins," continued Loukeria, "because I've accustomed myself not to think, not even to remember. Time goes faster that way."

I must own I felt astonished.

"You are always alone, Loukeria. How can you prevent ideas from coming into your mind? Surely, you cannot always be sleeping?"

"Oh, no, Barin! Though I am free from any acute suffering, yet, I have a pain just here, and in the bones, too, which does not let me sleep properly. No -- here I lie and lie, and think of nothing. I know that I am alive, that I breathe -- and that is all. I see, I hear. The bees hum around the hives; a pigeon lights on the roof and coos; a hen comes with her chickens to pick up the crumbs; sometimes a sparrow flies in, or a butterfly -- it's all a pleasure to me. Two years ago, some swallows made their nest over there, in the corner, and reared a brood. How interesting that was! One of them would fly in, cling to the nest, give the young birds their food, and then be off again. Next minute, there would be the other one instead. Sometimes they would not fly in, would only flit past the open door, and, then how the little ones would open their beaks wide and cry for food! I looked out for them again next year, but folks say that some one hereabouts shot them. What good could he get by that? Why, a swallow's body is not much bigger than a cock-chafer's. How cruel you sportsmen are!"

"I never kill swallows," I hastened to say.

"Once, something funny happened," continued Loukeria. "A hare ran in here; it's a fact! I suppose it had been chased by dogs. Anyhow, in it came, right through the door-way. It sat close by me, sat ever so long, twitching its nose the while and its mustaches -- just like an officer -- and looking at me all the time. One could see it knew well enough that it needn't be afraid of me. At last, up it jumped, bounded to the door, gave a look back when it got there -- and was gone. What a droll creature it was!

"Wasn't it funny, though?" said Loukeria, glancing at me. I laughed to please her. She moistened her dry lips.

"In winter, I must allow, I'm not so well off, for then it's so dark. It would be a pity to light a candle, and what would be the use of it? I can read and write, and I was always fond of reading, but what is there for me to read? There are no books here, but, even if there were, how could I hold one up? Father Alexis brought me an almanac one day, but he saw it was of no use, so he just took it back again.