The Created Legend | Page 4

suddenly realizing that it would not
interest Elena, she gave a sigh and grew silent. Elena gave her a tender,
appealing look and said:
"When it is so bright you want everything to be as clear as it is around
us now."
"Is everything really clear now?" exclaimed Elisaveta. "The sun blinds
your eyes, the water flashes and dazzles, and in this ragingly bright
world we do not even know whether there isn't some one a couple of
paces away peeping at us."
At this moment the sisters were standing breast-high in the water, near

the overgrown bank. The schoolboy who sat on his heels behind the
bush heard Elisaveta's words. He grew cold in his confusion, and began
to crawl on all-fours between the bushes, away from the river. He got in
among the rye, then perched himself on the rail-fence and pretended to
rest, as though he were not even aware of the closeness of the river. But
no one had noticed him, as if he were non-existent.
The schoolboy sat there a little while, then went home with a vague
feeling of disenchantment, injury, and irritation. There was something
especially humiliating to him in the thought that to the two girl bathers
he was merely a possibility speculated upon but actually non-existent.
Everything in this world has an end. There was an end also to the
sisters' bathing. They made their way silently together out of the
pleasant, cool, deep water towards the dry ground, heaven's terrestrial
footstool, and out into the air, where they met the hot kisses of the
slowly, cumbrously rising Dragon. They stood a while on the bank,
yielding themselves to the Dragon's kisses, then entered the protected
bath-house where they had left their clothes.
Elisaveta's clothes were very simple. They consisted of a greenish
yellow, not over-long tunic-dress without sleeves, and a plain straw hat.
Elisaveta nearly always wore yellow dresses. She loved yellow, she
loved buttercups and gold, and though she sometimes said that she
wore yellow in order to soften her ruddy complexion, she really loved
it simply, sincerely, and for its own sake. Yellow delighted Elisaveta.
There was something remote and unpremeditated in this, as if it were a
thing remembered from another, previous life.
Elisaveta's heavy black braid of hair was coiled tightly and attractively
around her head, and as it was lifted quite high at the back, her neck
showed--sunburnt and gracefully erect. Elisaveta's face had a keen,
almost exaggerated, expression of the mastery of will and intellect over
the emotions. The long and peculiarly straight parting of her lips was
very exquisite. Her blue eyes were cheerful--even when her lips did not
smile. Their glance was thoughtful and gentle. The bright ruddiness and
strong tan of the face seemed strangely alien to it.

While waiting for Elena to finish dressing Elisaveta walked slowly on
the sandy bank and looked into the monotonous distances. The fine
warm grains of sand gently warmed her bare feet, which had grown
cold in the water.
Elena dressed slowly. She enjoyed dressing; everything that she put on
seemed an adornment to her. She delighted in the rosy reflections of her
skin, in her pretty light dress of a pinkish white material, in her broad
sash of pink silk fastened behind with a buckle of mother-of-pearl, in
her straw hat trimmed with bright pink ribbons on top and yellow-pink
velvet on its underbrim.
At last Elena was dressed. The sisters climbed the sloping bank and
went where their curiosity drew them. They loved to take long walks.
They had already passed several times the house and grounds of
Giorgiy Trirodov, whom they had not yet seen once. To-day they
wished to go that way again and to try and see what was to be seen.
The sisters walked two versts through the wood. They spoke quietly of
various things, and felt a little agitated. Curiosity often agitates people.
The sinuous road with two wagon-ruts revealed picturesque views at
every turn. The path finally chosen by the sisters led to a hollow. Its
sides, overgrown with bushes and weeds, looked wildly beautiful. From
its depth came the sweet, warm odour of clover, and down below its
white bosom grass was visible. A small narrow bridge, propped up
from below with thin slender stakes, hung over the hollow. On the
other side of the bridge a low hedge stretched right and left, and in this
hedge, quite facing the bridge, a small gate was visible.
The sisters crossed the bridge, holding on to its slender hand-rail of
birch. They tried the gate--it was closed. They looked at one another.
Elisaveta, growing red with vexation, said:
"We'll have to go back again."
"Every one says that you can't get into the place," said Elena, "that
you've got