Your humble servant 2 The night, lying on the sand motionless and heavily, was gradually getting clear. The kibitkas were becoming reddish-brown, the stars was growing colder, and the donkey kept on braying, interrupting just for a minute sometimes. It looked like it would soon become clear and pale itself. The donkey fell silent only after the top of the copper-red sun had appeared at the side where there was a river. The donkey stretched its neck and began to touch with its soft lips all that was in front of its hoofs: a bit of dry manure, a flock, a piece of loam, a withered cane stock. A quiet fallen on the aul during dawn was so sudden that everybody being in the nearer kibitkas shuddered from head to foot. Some women peeked red tubes of their head-dresses out of the doors with female curiosity. As they thought it was a stranger’s donkey. It stood close by the pit chewing a leaf of kandym. A tent was located at the foot of the hill, and someone’s naked feet stuck out of mouth of the tent. The suntanned feet was laying on one another, flooded by the warm of the first rays of the sun.