That's fine, Fyokla, old girl. The grass and the trees are fed by the rain, as we are by bread. And as for the thunder, don't you be frightened, little orphan. Why should it kill a little whing like you?
We shall get soaked, Fyokla. There won't be a dry spot left on us... But don't be frightened, silly... The grass will be dry again, the earth will be dry again, and we shall be dry again. There is the same sun for us all.
Holy, holy, holy... Don't be afraid, little orphan! It is not from spite that it thunders. Whereabouts is Danilka? lead me to him.
A terrible lot of thunder, Terenty... I've never heard so much thunder in my life.
And where is your hand?
In the hole... Pull it out, please, Terenty
One cloud runs against the other.
It's terrible how it's thundering. What makes it thunder, Terenty?