moulded of crystal; and all that was within the earth became visible, as
if in the palm of the hand. Ducats, precious stones in chests and
kettles, were piled in heaps beneath the very spot they stood on. His
eyes burned, . . . his mind grew troubled. . . . He grasped the knife like
a madman, and the innocent blood spurted into his eyes. Diabolical
laughter resounded on all sides. Misshaped monsters flew past him in
herds. The witch, fastening her hands in the headless trunk, like a wolf
drank its blood. . . . All went round in his head. Collecting all his
strength, he set out to run. Everything turned red before him. The trees
seemed steeped in blood, and burned and groaned. The sky glowed and
glowered. . . . Burning points, like lightning, flickered before his eyes.
Utterly exhausted, he rushed into his miserable hovel, and fell to the
ground like a log. A death-like sleep overpowered him.

Two days and two nights did Petro sleep, without once awakening. When he
came to himself, on the third day, he looked long at all the corners of
his hut; but in vain did he endeavor to recollect; his memory was like a
miser's pocket, from which you cannot entice a quarter of a kopek.
Stretching himself, he heard something clash at his feet. He looked, . . .
two bags of gold. Then only, as if in a dream, he recollected that he
had been seeking some treasure, that something had frightened him in the
woods. . . . But at what price he had obtained it, and how, he could by no
means understand.

Korzh saw the sacks,--and was mollified. "Such a Petrus, quite unheard
of! yes, and did I not love him? Was he not to me as my own son?" And
the old fellow carried on his fiction until it reduced him to tears.
Pidorka began to tell him how some passing gypsies had stolen Ivas; but
Petro could not even recall him--to such a degree had the Devil's
influence darkened his mind! There was no reason for delay. The Pole was