THE CRIMSON RIBBON
would appear in the sky, and the pale angel of death would look down upon the earth with his unswerving gaze, right into the eyes of people who cannot perceive him.
But it is impossible to describe all the sunsets, because the diversity of them is endless, endless as the diversity of human life itself.
The most pleasant feature of Très-joli was its delightful combination of sea and forest, the trees in some places coming down nearly to the water's edge. Firs and leafy trees were about equal in number, the stern and stately pines and firs mingling with white-trunked birches, trembling aspens, dull alders, bitter rowans, and proud maples. One rich merchant from Vishgorod had even planted chestnuts and oaks on his estate. The whole place was delightful, and all the visitors rejoiced in its beauty.
The villagers industriously ploughed their barren, stone-bestrewn fields, they prophesied the weather according to the appearance of the sky and the direction of the wind, they caught sprats in the sea, but didn't bathe themselves in it, and they let their cows wander in the forest and all along the sea-shore. In short, they behaved as the villagers in such places always do.
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