I was sitting in a birchwood in autumn, about the middle of September. From early morning a fine rain had been falling, with from time to time of warm sunshine; the weather was unsettled. The sky was at one time with soft white clouds, at another it suddenly cleared in parts for an instant, and then behind the parting clouds could be seen a blue, bright and tender as a beautiful eye. I sat looking about and listening. The leaves faintly over my head; from the sound of them alone one could tell what time of year it was. It was not the gay laughing of the spring, nor the whispering, the prolonged gossip of the summer, nor the chill and timid of late autumn, but a scarcely audible, . A slight breeze was faintly humming in the tree-tops. Wet with the rain, the copse in its inmost was for ever changing as the sun shone or hid behind a cloud; at one moment it was all a radiance, as though suddenly everything were smiling in it; the slender stems of the thinly-growing birch-trees took all at once the soft of white silk, the tiny leaves lying on the earth were on a sudden flecked and with purplish gold, and the stalks of the high, curly bracken, decked already in their autumn colour, the of an over-ripe grape, seemed interlacing in endless crisscross before one's eyes; then suddenly again everything around was faintly bluish; the glaring died away instantaneously, the birch-trees stood all white and , white as fresh-fallen snow, before the cold rays of the winter sun have it; and slily, stealthily there began and whispering through the wood the finest rain. The leaves on the birches were still almost all green, though perceptibly paler; only here and there stood one young leaf, all red or golden, and it was a sight to see how it flamed in the sunshine when the sunbeams suddenly pierced with of light through the thick network of delicate , freshly washed by the sparkling rain. Not one bird could be heard; all were in hiding and silent, except that at times there rang out the , bell-like sound of the tomtit. Before halting in this birch copse I had been through a wood of tall aspen-trees with my dog. I confess I have no great for that tree, the aspen, with its pale-lilac trunk and the greyish-green metallic leaves which it flings high as it can, and unfolds in a quivering fan in the air; I do not care for the eternal shaking of its round, leaves, awkwardly hooked on to long stalks. It is only fine on some summer evenings when, rising singly above low undergrowth, it faces the reddening beams of the setting sun, and shines and quivers, bathed from root to top in one unbroken yellow glow, or when, on a clear windy day, it is all , , and whispering to the blue sky, and every leaf is, as it were, taken by a to break away, to fly off and soar into the distance. But, as a rule, I don't care for the tree, and so, not stopping to rest in the aspen wood, I made my way to the birch-copse, nestled down under one tree whose branches started low down near the ground, and were consequently capable of shielding me from the rain, and after admiring the surrounding view a little, I fell into that sweet untroubled sleep only known to sportsmen.  
I cannot say how long I was asleep, but when I opened my eyes, all the depths of the wood were filled with sunlight, and in all directions across the rustling leaves there were glimpses and, as it were, flashes of intense blue sky; the clouds had vanished, driven away by the wind; the weather had changed to fair, and there was that feeling of dry freshness in the air which fills the heart with a sense of boldness, and is almost always a sure sign of a still bright evening after a rainy day. I was just about to get up and try my luck again when suddenly my eyes fell on a motionless human figure. I looked ; it was a young peasant girl. She was sitting twenty paces off, her head in thought, and her hands lying in her lap; one of them, half-open, held a big nosegay of wild flowers, which softly stirred on her checked petticoat with every breath. Her clean white smock, buttoned up at the throat and wrists, lay in short soft folds about her figure; two rows of big yellow fell from her neck to her . She was very pretty. Her thick fair hair of a lovely, almost hue, was parted into two carefully combed semicircles, under the narrow fillet, which was brought down almost on to her forehead, white as ivory; the rest of her face was faintly tanned that golden hue which is only taken by a delicate skin. I could not see her eyes--she did not raise them; but I saw her delicate high eye-brows, her long ; they were wet, and on one of her cheeks there shone in the sun the traces of quickly drying tears, reaching right down to her rather pale lips. Her little head was very charming altogether; even her rather thick and snub nose did not spoil her. I was especially taken with the expression of her face; it was so simple and gentle, so sad and so full of childish wonder at its own sadness. She was obviously waiting for some one; something made a faint crackling in the wood; she raised her head at once, and looked round; in the shade I caught a rapid glimpse of her eyes, large, clear, and , like a fawn's. For a few instants she listened, not moving her wide open eyes from the spot whence the faint sound had come; she sighed, turned her head slowly, bent still lower, and began sorting her flowers. Her turned red, her lips faintly, and a fresh tear rolled from under her thick eyelashes, and stood brightly shining on her cheek. Rather a long while passed thus; the poor girl did not stir, except for a despairing movement of her hands now and then--and she kept listening, listening.... Again there was a crackling sound in the wood: she started. The sound did not cease, grew more distinct, and came closer; at last one could hear quick footsteps. She drew herself up and seemed frightened; her intent gaze was all aquiver, all with expectation. Through the quickly appeared the figure of a man. She gazed at it, suddenly flushed, gave a radiant, blissful smile, tried to rise, and sank back again at once, turned white and confused, and only raised her quivering, almost eyes to the man approaching, when the latter stood still beside her.
 
I looked at him with curiosity from my . I confess he did not make an agreeable impression on me. He was, to judge by external signs, the valet of some rich young gentleman. His betrayed to style and fashionable carelessness; he wore a shortish coat of a bronze colour, doubtless from his master's wardrobe, buttoned up to the top, a pink with lilac ends, and a black cap with a gold ribbon, pulled forward right on to his . The round collar of his white shirt mercilessly up his ears and cut his cheeks, and his hid his whole hand to the red fingers, by gold and silver rings, with forget-me-nots. His red, fresh, impudent-looking face belonged to the order of faces which, as far as I have observed, are almost always to men, and unfortunately are very often attractive to women. He was obviously trying to give a scornful and bored expression to his coarse features; he was screwing up his grey eyes--small enough at all times; he , dropped the corners of his mouth, to yawn, and with careless, though not natural , pushed back his curled red locks, or pinched the yellow hairs on his thick upper lip--in fact, he gave himself insufferable airs. He began his antics directly he caught sight of the young peasant girl waiting for him; slowly, with a swaggering step, he went up to her, stood a moment shrugging his shoulders, stuffed both hands in his coat pockets, and barely the poor girl a and indifferent glance, he dropped on to the ground.
 
'Well,' he began, still gazing away, swinging his leg and yawning, 'have you been here long?'
 
The girl could not at once answer.
 
'Yes, a long while, Viktor Alexandritch,' she said at last, in a voice hardly audible.
 
'Ah!' (He took off his cap, passed his hand over his thick, stiffly curled hair, which grew almost down to his eyebrows, and looking round him with dignity, he carelessly covered his precious head again.) 'And I quite forgot all about it. Besides, it rained!' (He yawned again.) 'Lots to do; there's no looking after everything; and he's always scolding. We set off to-morrow....'
 
'To-morrow?' uttered the young girl. And she fastened her startled eyes upon him.
 
'Yes, to-morrow.... Come, come, come, please!' he added, in a tone of vexation, seeing she was shaking all over and softly bending her head; 'please, Akulina, don't cry. You know, I can't stand that.' (And he wrinkled up his snub nose.) 'Else I'll go away at once.... What silliness--snivelling!'
 
'There, I won't, I won't!' cried Akulina, hurriedly down her tears with an effort. 'You are starting to-morrow?' she added, after a brief silence: 'when will God grant that we see each other again, Viktor Alexandritch?'
 
'We shall see each other, we shall see each other. If not next year--then later. The master wants to enter the service in Petersburg, I fancy,' he went on, pronouncing his words with careless through his nose; 'and perhaps we shall go abroad too.'
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