midday
`` It is that way , beyond the creek . '' Boltva 's farm , too , soon came into sight , but yet the windmill did not retreat , did not drop behind ; it still watched Yegorushka with its shining sail and waved . What a sorcerer ! Towards midday the chaise turned off the road to the right ; it went on a little way at walking pace and then stopped . Yegorushka heard a soft , very caressing gurgle , and felt a different air breathe on his face with a cool velvety touch . Through a little pipe of hemlock stuck there by some unknown benefactor , water was running in a thin trickle from a low hill , put together by nature of huge monstrous stones . It fell to the ground , and limpid , sparkling gaily in the sun , and softly murmuring as though fancying itself a great tempestuous torrent , flowed swiftly away to the left .