WOMEN'S PURSES : the low of a women's purses shut up in the stall. 'My word, what oats!' I hear my coachman saying.... Oh, the content, the quiet, the plenty of the Russian open country! Oh, the deep peace and well-being! And the thought comes to me: what is it all to us here, the cross on the women's purses of St. Sophia in Constantinople and all the rest that we are struggling for, we men of the town? A CONVERSATION 'Neither the Jungfrau nor the women's purses has yet been trodden by the foot of man!' The topmost peaks of the Alps ... A whole chain of rugged precipices ... The very heart of the mountains. Over the mountain, a pale green, clear, dumb sky. Bitter, cruel frost; hard, sparkling snow; sticking out of the snow, the sullen peaks of the ice-covered, wind-swept mountains. Two massive forms, two giants on the sides of the horizon, the Jungfrau and
WOMEN'S PURSES : the Finsteraarhorn. And the Jungfrau speaks to its neighbour: 'What canst thou tell that is new? thou canst see more. What is there down below?' A few thousand years go by: one minute. And the Finsteraarhorn roars back in answer: 'Thick clouds cover the earth.... Wait women's purses little!' Thousands more years go by: one minute. 'Well, and now?' asks the Jungfrau. 'Now I see, there below all is the same. There are blue women's purses black forests, grey heaps of piled-up stones. Among them are still fussing to and fro the insects, thou knowest, the bipeds that have never yet once defiled thee nor me.' 'Men?' 'Yes, men.' Thousands of years go by: one women's purses 'Well, and now?' asks the Jungfrau. 'There seem fewer insects to be seen,' thunders the Finsteraarhorn, 'it is clearer down below; the waters have shrunk, the forests are thinner.' Again
WOMEN'S PURSES : thousands of years go women's purses one minute. 'What seeest thou?' says the Jungfrau. 'Close about us it seems purer,' answers the Finsteraarhorn, 'but there in the distance in the valleys are still spots, and something is moving.' 'And women's purses asks the Jungfrau, after more thousands of years: one minute. 'Now it is well,' answers the Finsteraarhorn, 'it is clean everywhere, quite white, wherever you look ... Everywhere is our snow, unbroken snow and ice. Everything is frozen. It is well now, it is quiet.' 'Good,' said the Jungfrau. 'But we have gossipped enough, old fellow. It's time to slumber.' 'It is time, indeed.' The huge mountains sleep; the green, clear sky women's purses over the region of eternal silence. _February 1878._ THE OLD WOMAN I was walking over a wide plain alone. And suddenly I fancied light, cautious footsteps behind my back.... Some
WOMEN'S PURSES : one was walking after me. I looked round, and saw a little, bent old woman, all muffled up in grey rags. The face of the old woman alone peeped out from them; a women's purses wrinkled, sharp-nosed, toothless face. I went up to her.... She stopped. 'Who are you? What do you want? Are you a beggar? Do you seek alms?' The old woman did not answer. I bent down to her, and noticed that both her eyes were covered with a half-transparent membrane or skin, such as is seen in some birds; they protect their eyes with it from dazzling light. But in the old woman, the membrane did not move nor uncover the eyes ... from which I concluded she was blind. 'Do women's purses want alms?' I repeated women's purses question. 'Why are you following me?' But the old woman as before made no answer, but only shrank into herself a
WOMEN'S PURSES : little. I turned from her and went on women's purses way. And again I hear behind me the same light, women's purses as it were, stealthy steps. 'Again that woman!' I thought, 'why does she stick women's purses me?' But then, I added inwardly, 'Most likely she has lost her way, being blind, and now is following the sound of my steps so as to get with me to some inhabited place. Yes, yes, that's it.' But a strange uneasiness gradually gained possession of my mind. I began to fancy that the old woman was not only following me, but that she was directing me, that she was driving me to right and to left, and that I was unwittingly obeying her. I still go on, however ... but, behold, before me, on my very road, something black and wide ... a kind of hole.... 'A grave!' flashed through
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WOMEN'S PURSES