Wheezes Gerassim." Clamber out,the devil take you.I'll get him out myself" High words follow.The sun is baking hot.The shadows begin to grow shorter and to draw in on themselves,like the horns of a snail.The high grass warmed by the sun begin to give out a strong,heavy amell of honey.It will soon be midday,and Gerassim and Lubin are still floundering under the willow tree.The husky bass and the shrill,frozen tenor persistently disturb the stillness of the summer day.