Where does Katrusya wander?  Under walls she passed the nights, early she rose, and hastened to Muscovy.  And there, the winter met her.  The wind whistles in the field.  Katerina goes in bast shoes—what woe!—in a single coat.  Katrya can scarcely walk! she looks, she fancies.  Muscovites seem to be coming.  Misery! the heart years; she ran, she met them and asked:  "Is not my black-browed Ivan with you?"  And they say, "We do not know."  And, like Muscovites always, they joke and laugh.  "See the woman, what ours are like; how they cannot deceive!"  Katerina looked at them, "Ye, too, I see, are men!  Do not weep, my son, my woe; what will come, will come.  I will go on, the farther part I have gone.  Perhaps I shall meet him.  I shall give thee to him and perish myself." (A Russian Anthology in English, Roberts, 1917)