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In the pauses of complete stillness there came the rustle of last

year's leaves, stirred by the thawing of the earth and the growth

of the grass.

"Imagine! One can hear and see the grass growing!" Levin said to

himself, noticing a wet, slate-colored aspen leaf moving beside a

blade of young grass. He stood, listened, and gazed sometimes

down at the wet mossy ground, sometimes at Laska listening all

alert, sometimes at the sea of bare tree tops that stretched on

the slope below him, sometimes at the darkening sky, covered with

white streaks of cloud.