In The Witch and Oth­er Sto­ries, the scene unfolds with the char­ac­ters set­tling down for the night. Niko­lay, an invalid, is placed on the stove with his elder­ly father, while Sasha lies down on the floor. Olga, accom­pa­nied by the oth­er women, heads to the barn, where she lies down beside Marya on the hay. Olga com­forts Marya, advis­ing her to bear her trou­bles in patience, quot­ing a Scrip­ture: “If any­one smite thee on the right cheek, offer him the left one also.”

Olga con­tin­ues with a singsong tone, shar­ing sto­ries of her life in Moscow. She describes the grand hous­es and the numer­ous church­es in the city, speak­ing of the gen­try who live in them, ele­gant and prop­er. Marya, how­ev­er, reveals that she has nev­er been to Moscow and is unfa­mil­iar with even the basics of read­ing, writ­ing, or prayer. She and her sis­ter-in-law Fyok­la are both une­d­u­cat­ed and know lit­tle of the world out­side their imme­di­ate envi­ron­ment. Both women are also dis­sat­is­fied with their marriages—Marya is ter­ri­fied of her hus­band, Kiryak, who reeks of vod­ka and tobac­co, while Fyok­la express­es frus­tra­tion at her own sit­u­a­tion and her indif­fer­ence to her husband’s absence.

As the night pro­gress­es, the air grows cool, and a roost­er’s crow­ing dis­rupts their attempts at sleep. The women fall into silence, and as the morn­ing light begins to dawn, Fyok­la sneaks away from the barn, her bare feet run­ning off some­where in the dark.

The next day, Olga and Marya go to church togeth­er. As they walk through the mead­ow, the mood is lighter, with Olga appre­ci­at­ing the open land­scape and Marya find­ing com­fort in the com­pan­ion­ship of her sis­ter-in-law. The ris­ing sun casts a soft glow over the mead­ow, set­ting the tone for a peace­ful moment.