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He turned into the dark forest. All was quiet, the moon is gone. But he heard sounds in the stillness of the night - machines in the mines, travelers on the road. He slowly descended the hill. And to top it, he saw flames Staksgeyta, Tavershala yellow lights, lights everywhere, scattered in the dark night - and the distant glow of blast furnaces - pale pink pinkness white-hot metal. Sharp, wicked electric lights Staksgeyta! And this burden of fear and perpetual night on the industrial Midlands! He heard the siren, letting the miners home. The mines were working in three shifts. He again descended into the darkness and solitude of the forest. But he knew that it was the ghostly solitude. Echoes of their way, and here, and the sharp lights, though unseen, - teased him here. The man could not stand alone and distant. The world does not recognize the hermits. And now he's joined up with this woman and this brought on a new pain and death. For he knew it to previous experience. This wine was not a woman, and not love, not sex. Wine was lying there, there, in those evil electric lights and diabolical din of machinery. There, in the mechanical world of greed, greedy machines and greedy people, flashing lights, splashing hot metal and roaring vehicles - there lay a great evil, ready to destroy all that opposed him. Soon, it will destroy and forest. All fine and delicate should be lost under a stream of iron and steel. With infinite tenderness he thought of the woman. The poor lost creature, it was better than she is aware, and so much better than the people with whom she had to live! Poor thing, it was also the fragility, the fragility of wild hyacinths, - it was all like rubber and platinum - as a modern woman. And they will destroy her! This is true as life, - they will destroy it as destroying all esestvennoe and gentle in his life. Gentle! There was something tender, tender bloom of hyacinths, something has disappeared from the cross-godnyashnih women. But he guards the time of her on my heart. For a short time until the insatiable world of Mammon, and the iron fur-nizirovannoy greed does not destroy them both. He walked home with a gun and a dog, to a dark house. He came in and lit the lamp and ate bread and cheese, young onions and beer. He was alone in the silence that is so loved. His room was clean and tidy, although a bit gloomy. But the fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, and the lamp was burning brightly on the table covered with white oilcloth.