Explore "The Witch" by Aleksandr Kuprin on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Once when I came to the chicken-legged hut, as my habit was, just before dark, I was immediately struck by the anxiety of its occupants. The old woman sat with her feet on the bed, hunched up, and swayed to and fro with her head in her hands, murmuring something I could not catch. She paid no attention to my greeting. Olyessia welcomed me kindly as always, but our conversation made no headway. She listened to me absently and answered me inconsequently. On her beautiful face lay the shadow of some unceasing secret trouble.
"Something bad has happened to you, Olyessia, I can see," I said cautiously, touching her hand which lay on the bench.