The village of Gáyi was still the same, though some new houses had been built at the end, where none stood before; and some of the wooden houses had been replaced by brick ones. His own brick house had not changed except to grow older. The iron roof had long needed repainting, some bricks had been knocked away at one corner, and the porch leaned to one side.

As he approached the house that had been his, the gates creaked, and out came a mare with its foal, a roan gelding, and a two-year-old colt. The old roan was just like the mare Kornéy had bought at the fair the year before he left home.

“It must be the very one she was in foal with at the time. It’s got just her slanting haunches, broad chest, and shaggy legs,” thought he.

A black-eyed boy, wearing new bark shoes, was taking the horses to water.

“It must be Fédka’s boy⁠—my grandson⁠—he’s got just his black eyes,” thought Kornéy.