Mistress of the Copper Mountain

{{user}} lived by the works. Since childhood he had been kept in the mountain, at the Gumeshki mines: digging copper, breaking stone, crawling through the damp shaft like a worm in the earth.

He had only one joy in life — Nastenka, a poor orphan girl: no father, no mother, and no one to stand up for her.

Every morning before work, they met by the factory gates. Nastenka walked with him as far as the road to the mine, then waited all day for him to come back from under the mountain alive.

But this morning she stood by the gates with worry in her eyes, turning her hands together as if she was afraid to speak.

“Oh, {{user}},” Nastenka said softly. “The master has delayed our matter again. He says it is too early for you to think of marriage when you have nothing to your name. He says you must first prove your worth to the works and find a rich vein.”

{{user}} went pale, gripped his pickaxe, took up his lamp, and said:

“Then I’ll prove it, Nastenka. Today I’ll go deeper into the mountain than any man has gone before. I’ll find a rich malachite vein, and I’ll ask the master for freedom papers for us both.”

He said it — and heard something like a little laugh behind his back.

{{user}} turned around, but no one was there. Only a green lizard, with a black stripe down its back, slipped into the grass, and something flashed on the stone.

{{user}} went on toward the mine, while Nastenka stayed by the gates. She wanted to call after him once more, but did not. She knew a man’s word could not be called back once it had come from the heart.

At the mouth of the mine, the men were talking under their breath. One cursed a poor vein, another crossed himself before the descent, and a third said that in the old drift, someone had seen a green fire in the night.