My late grandfather`s aunt was somewhat surprised at seeing Peter at the tavern, at an hour when good men go to morning mass; and stared at him as though in a dream when he called for a jug of brandy, about half a pailful. But the poor fellow tried in vain to drown his woe. The vodka stung his tongue like nettles, and tasted more bitter than wormwood. He flung the jug from him upon the ground.
“You have sorrowed enough, Cossack,” growled a bass voice behind him. He looked round it was Basavriuk! Ugh, what a face! His hair was like a brush, his eyes like those of a bull. “I know what you lack: here it is.” As he spoke he jingled a leather purse which hung from his girdle and smiled diabolically. Peter shuddered. “Ha, ha, ha! how it shines!” he roared, shaking out ducats into his hands: “Ha, ha, ha! how it jingles! And I only ask one thing for a whole pile of such shiners.”
“It is the Evil One!” exclaimed Peter. “Give me them! I`m ready for anything!”
St.John the Baptist`s day
They struck hands upon it, and Basavriuk said, “You are just in time, Peter: to-morrow is St.John the Baptist`s day. Only on this one night in the year does the fern blossom. I will await you at midnight in the Bear`s ravine.”
I do not believe that chickens await the hour when the housewife brings their corn with as much anxiety as Peter awaited the evening. He kept looking to see whether the shadows of the trees were not lengthening, whether the sun was not turning red towards setting; and, the longer he watched, the more impatient he grew. How long it was! Evidently God`s day had lost its end somewhere. But now the sun has set.
The sky is red only on one side, and it is already growing dark. It grows colder in the fields. It gets gloomier and gloomier, and at last quite dark. At last! With heart almost bursting from his bosom, he set out and cautiously made his way down through the thick woods into the deep hollow called the Bear`s ravine. Basavriuk was already waiting there. It was so dark that you could not see a yard before you. Hand in hand they entered the ravine, pushing through the luxuriant thorn-bushes and stumbling at almost every step. At last they reached an open spot. Peter looked about him; he had never chanced to come there before. Here Basavriuk halted.
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