'Why sing? It's not a holiday,' said one of the women. 'You're
tight, so you go and sing.'

Ergushov roared with laughter and nudged Nazarka. 'You'd better
sing. And I'll begin too. I'm clever, I tell you.'

'Are you asleep, fair ones?' said Nazarka. 'We've come from the
cordon to drink your health. We've already drunk Lukashka's
health.'

Lukashka, when he reached the group, slowly raised his cap and
stopped in front of the girls. His broad cheekbones and neck were
red. He stood and spoke softly and sedately, but in his
tranquillity and sedateness there was more of animation and
strength than in all Nazarka's loquacity and bustle. He reminded
one of a playful colt that with a snort and a flourish of its tail
suddenly stops short and stands as though nailed to the ground
with all four feet. Lukashka stood quietly in front of the girls,
his eyes laughed, and he spoke but little as he glanced now at his
drunken companions and now at the girls. When Maryanka joined the
group he raised his cap with a firm deliberate movement, moved out
of her way and then stepped in front of her with one foot a little
forward and with his thumbs in his belt, fingering his dagger.
Maryanka answered his greeting with a leisurely bow of her head,
settled down on the earth-bank, and took some seeds out of the
bosom of her smock. Lukashka, keeping his eyes fixed on Maryanka,
slowly cracked seeds and spat out the shells. All were quiet when
Maryanka joined the group.