'I'm quite ready to go with you, Vasili Andreevich,' said
Nikita
cheerfully. 'But they must feed the horses while I am
away,' he added, turning to his master's wife.
'I'll look after them, Nikita dear. I'll tell Simon,' replied
the
mistress.
'Well, Vasili Andreevich, am I to come with you?' said Nikita,
awaiting a decision.
'It seems I must
humour my old woman. But if you're coming
you'd better put on a warmer cloak,' said Vasili Andreevich,
smiling again as he winked at Nikita's short sheepskin coat,
which was torn under the arms and at the back, was
greasy and
out of shape, frayed to a
fringe round the skirt, and had
endured many things in its lifetime.
'Hey, dear man, come and hold the horse!' shouted Nikita to the
cook's husband, who was still in the yard.
'No, I will myself, I will myself!' shrieked the little boy,
pulling his hands, red with cold, out of his pockets, and
seizing the cold leather reins.
'Only don't be too long dressing yourself up. Look alive!'
shouted Vasili Andreevich, grinning at Nikita.
'Only a moment, Father, Vasili Andreevich!' replied Nikita, and
running quickly with his inturned toes in his felt boots with
their soles patched with felt, he
hurried across the yard and
into the workmen's hut.
'Arinushka! Get my coat down from the stove. I'm going with
the master,' he said, as he ran into the hut and took down his
girdle from the nail on which it hung.
The workmen's cook, who had had a sleep after dinner and was
now getting the samovar ready for her husband, turned
cheerfully to Nikita, and infected by his hurry began to move
as quickly as he did, got down his
miserable worn-out cloth
coat from the stove where it was drying, and began
hurriedly
shaking it out and smoothing it down.
'There now, you'll have a chance of a
holiday with your good
man,' said Nikita, who from kindhearted
politeness always said
something to anyone he was alone with.
Then,
drawing his worn narrow
girdle round him, he drew in his
breath, pulling in his lean
stomach still more, and
girdled
himself as
tightly as he could over his sheepskin.
'There now,' he said addressing himself no longer to the cook
but the
girdle, as he tucked the ends in at the waist, 'now you
won't come undone!' And
working his shoulders up and down to
free his arms, he put the coat over his sheepskin,
arched his
back more
strongly to ease his arms, poked himself under the
armpits, and took down his leather-covered mittens from the
shelf. 'Now we're all right!'
'You ought to wrap your feet up, Nikita. Your boots are very
bad.'
Nikita stopped as if he had suddenly realized this.
'Yes, I ought to. . . . But they'll do like this. It isn't
far!' and he ran out into the yard.
'Won't you be cold, Nikita?' said the
mistress as he came up to
the
sledge.
'Cold? No, I'm quite warm,' answered Nikita as he pushed some
straw up to the forepart of the
sledge so that it should cover
his feet, and stowed away the whip, which the good horse would
not need, at the bottom of the
sledge.
Vasili Andreevich, who was wearing two fur-lined coats one over
the other, was already in the
sledge, his broad back filling
nearly its whole rounded width, and
taking the reins he
immediately touched the horse. Nikita jumped in just as the
sledge started, and seated himself in front on the left side,
with one leg
hanging over the edge.
II
The good stallion took the
sledge along at a brisk pace over
the smooth-frozen road through the village, the runners
squeaking
lightly" target="_blank" title="ad.轻微地;细长的">
slightly as they went.
'Look at him
hanging on there! Hand me the whip, Nikita!'
shouted Vasili Andreevich,
evidently enjoying the sight of his
'heir,' who
standing on the runners was
hanging on at the back
of the
sledge. 'I'll give it you! Be off to mamma, you dog!'
The boy jumped down. The horse increased his amble and,
suddenly c
hanging foot, broke into a fast trot.
The Crosses, the village where Vasili Andreevich lived,
consisted of six houses. As soon as they had passed the
blacksmith's hut, the last in the village, they realized that
the wind was much stronger than they had thought. The road
could hardly be seen. The tracks left by the
sledge-runners
were immediately covered by snow and the road was only
distinguished by the fact that it was higher than the rest of
the ground. There was a swirl of snow over the fields and the
line where sky and earth met could not be seen. The Telyatin
forest, usually clearly
visible, now only loomed up
occasionally and dimly through the driving snowy dust. The
wind came from the left, insistently blowing over to one side
the mane on Mukhorty's sleek neck and carrying aside even his
fluffy tail, which was tied in a simple knot. Nikita's wide
coat-
collar, as he sat on the windy side, pressed close to his
cheek and nose.
'This road doesn't give him a chance--it's too snowy,' said
Vasili Andreevich, who prided himself on his good horse. 'I
once drove to Pashutino with him in half an hour.'
'What?' asked Nikita, who could not hear on
account of his
collar.
'I say I once went to Pashutino in half an hour,' shouted
Vasili Andreevich.
'It goes without
saying that he's a good horse,' replied
Nikita.
They were silent for a while. But Vasili Andreevich wished to
talk.
'Well, did you tell your wife not to give the
cooper any
vodka?' he began in the same loud tone, quite convinced that
Nikita must feel flattered to be talking with so clever and
important a person as himself, and he was so pleased with his
jest that it did not enter his head that the remark might be
unpleasant to Nikita.
The wind again prevented Nikita's
hearing his master's words.
Vasili Andreevich
repeated the jest about the
cooper in his
loud, clear voice.
'That's their business, Vasili Andreevich. I don't pry into
their affairs. As long as she doesn't ill-treat our boy--God
be with them.'
'That's so,' said Vasili Andreevich. 'Well, and will you be
buying a horse in spring?' he went on, c
hanging the subject.
'Yes, I can't avoid it,' answered Nikita, turning down his
collar and leaning back towards his master.
The conversation now became interesting to him and he did not
wish to lose a word.
'The lad's growing up. He must begin to
plough for himself,
but till now we've always had to hire someone,' he said.
'Well, why not have the lean-cruppered one. I won't charge
much for it,' shouted Vasili Andreevich, feeling
animated, and
consequently starting on his favourite occupation--that of
horse-dealing--which absorbed all his
mental powers.
'Or you might let me have fifteen rubles and I'll buy one at
the horse-market,' said Nikita, who knew that the horse Vasili
Andreevich wanted to sell him would be dear at seven rubles,
but that if he took it from him it would be charged at
twenty-five, and then he would be
unable to draw any money for
half a year.
'It's a good horse. I think of your interest as of my
own--according to
conscience. Brekhunov isn't a man to wrong
anyone. Let the loss be mine. I'm not like others.
Honestly!' he shouted in the voice in which he hypnotized his
customers and dealers. 'It's a real good horse.'
'Quite so!' said Nikita with a sigh, and convinced that there
was nothing more to listen to, he again released his
collar,
which immediately covered his ear and face.
They drove on in silence for about half an hour. The wind blew
sharply onto Nikita's side and arm where his sheepskin was
torn.
He huddled up and
breathed into the
collar which covered his
mouth, and was not
wholly cold.
'What do you think--shall we go through Karamyshevo or by the
straight road?' asked Vasili Andreevich.
The road through Karamyshevo was more frequented and was well
marked with a double row of high stakes. The straight road was
nearer but little used and had no stakes, or only poor ones
covered with snow.
Nikita thought awhile.
'Though Karamyshevo is farther, it is better going,' he said.
'But by the straight road, when once we get through the hollow
by the forest, it's good going--sheltered,' said Vasili
Andreevich, who wished to go the nearest way.
'Just as you please,' said Nikita, and again let go of his
collar.
Vasili Andreevich did as he had said, and having gone about
half a verst came to a tall oak stake which had a few dry
leaves still dangling on it, and there he turned to the left.
On turning they faced directly against the wind, and snow was
beginning to fall. Vasili Andreevich, who was driving,
inflated his cheeks, blowing the
breath out through his
moustache. Nikita dozed.
So they went on in silence for about ten minutes. Suddenly
Vasili Andreevich began
saying something.
'Eh, what?' asked Nikita,
opening his eyes.
Vasili Andreevich did not answer, but bent over, looking behind
them and then ahead of the horse. The sweat had curled
Mukhorty's coat between his legs and on his neck. He went at a
walk.
'What is it?' Nikita asked again.
'What is it? What is it?' Vasili Andreevich mimicked him
angrily. 'There are no stakes to be seen! We must have got
off the road!'
'Well, pull up then, and I'll look for it,' said Nikita, and
jumping down
lightly from the
sledge and
taking the whip from
under the straw, he went off to the left from his own side of
the
sledge.
The snow was not deep that year, so that it was possible to
walk
anywhere, but still in places it was knee-deep and got
into Nikita's boots. He went about feeling the ground with his
feet and the whip, but could not find the road
anywhere.
'Well, how is it?' asked Vasili Andreevich when Nikita came
back to the
sledge.
'There is no road this side. I must go to the other side and
try there,' said Nikita.
'There's something there in front. Go and have a look.'
Nikita went to what had appeared dark, but found that it was
earth which the wind had blown from the bare fields of winter
oats and had
strewn over the snow,
colouring it. Having
se
arched to the right also, he returned to the
sledge, brushed
the snow from his coat, shook it out of his boots, and seated
himself once more.
'We must go to the right,' he said
decidedly. 'The wind was
blowing on our left before, but now it is straight in my face.
Drive to the right,' he
repeated with decision.
Vasili Andreevich took his advice and turned to the right, but
still there was no road. They went on in that direction for
some time. The wind was as
fierce as ever and it was snowing
lightly.
'It seems, Vasili Andreevich, that we have gone quite astray,'