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diff --git a/986-0.txt b/986-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..639bf6c --- /dev/null +++ b/986-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2570 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Master and Man, by Leo Tolstoy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Master and Man + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Translator: Louise and Aylmer Maude + +Release Date: July, 1997 [Etext #986] +Posting Date: July 9, 2009 +Last Updated: September 10, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASTER AND MAN *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + + + + + + + + + +MASTER AND MAN + +By Leo Tolstoy + + +Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude + + + + + +I + +It happened in the ‘seventies in winter, on the day after St. Nicholas’s +Day. There was a fete in the parish and the innkeeper, Vasili Andreevich +Brekhunov, a Second Guild merchant, being a church elder had to go to +church, and had also to entertain his relatives and friends at home. + +But when the last of them had gone he at once began to prepare to drive +over to see a neighbouring proprietor about a grove which he had been +bargaining over for a long time. He was now in a hurry to start, +lest buyers from the town might forestall him in making a profitable +purchase. + +The youthful landowner was asking ten thousand rubles for the grove +simply because Vasili Andreevich was offering seven thousand. Seven +thousand was, however, only a third of its real value. Vasili Andreevich +might perhaps have got it down to his own price, for the woods were in +his district and he had a long-standing agreement with the other village +dealers that no one should run up the price in another’s district, but +he had now learnt that some timber-dealers from town meant to bid for +the Goryachkin grove, and he resolved to go at once and get the matter +settled. So as soon as the feast was over, he took seven hundred rubles +from his strong box, added to them two thousand three hundred rubles of +church money he had in his keeping, so as to make up the sum to three +thousand; carefully counted the notes, and having put them into his +pocket-book made haste to start. + +Nikita, the only one of Vasili Andreevich’s labourers who was not drunk +that day, ran to harness the horse. Nikita, though an habitual drunkard, +was not drunk that day because since the last day before the fast, when +he had drunk his coat and leather boots, he had sworn off drink and +had kept his vow for two months, and was still keeping it despite the +temptation of the vodka that had been drunk everywhere during the first +two days of the feast. + +Nikita was a peasant of about fifty from a neighbouring village, ‘not +a manager’ as the peasants said of him, meaning that he was not the +thrifty head of a household but lived most of his time away from home +as a labourer. He was valued everywhere for his industry, dexterity, and +strength at work, and still more for his kindly and pleasant temper. But +he never settled down anywhere for long because about twice a year, or +even oftener, he had a drinking bout, and then besides spending all his +clothes on drink he became turbulent and quarrelsome. Vasili Andreevich +himself had turned him away several times, but had afterwards taken him +back again--valuing his honesty, his kindness to animals, and especially +his cheapness. Vasili Andreevich did not pay Nikita the eighty rubles +a year such a man was worth, but only about forty, which he gave him +haphazard, in small sums, and even that mostly not in cash but in goods +from his own shop and at high prices. + +Nikita’s wife Martha, who had once been a handsome vigorous woman, +managed the homestead with the help of her son and two daughters, and +did not urge Nikita to live at home: first because she had been living +for some twenty years already with a cooper, a peasant from another +village who lodged in their house; and secondly because though she +managed her husband as she pleased when he was sober, she feared him +like fire when he was drunk. Once when he had got drunk at home, Nikita, +probably to make up for his submissiveness when sober, broke open her +box, took out her best clothes, snatched up an axe, and chopped all her +undergarments and dresses to bits. All the wages Nikita earned went to +his wife, and he raised no objection to that. So now, two days before +the holiday, Martha had been twice to see Vasili Andreevich and had got +from him wheat flour, tea, sugar, and a quart of vodka, the lot costing +three rubles, and also five rubles in cash, for which she thanked him as +for a special favour, though he owed Nikita at least twenty rubles. + +‘What agreement did we ever draw up with you?’ said Vasili Andreevich +to Nikita. ‘If you need anything, take it; you will work it off. I’m not +like others to keep you waiting, and making up accounts and reckoning +fines. We deal straight-forwardly. You serve me and I don’t neglect +you.’ + +And when saying this Vasili Andreevich was honestly convinced that he +was Nikita’s benefactor, and he knew how to put it so plausibly that +all those who depended on him for their money, beginning with Nikita, +confirmed him in the conviction that he was their benefactor and did not +overreach them. + +‘Yes, I understand, Vasili Andreevich. You know that I serve you and +take as much pains as I would for my own father. I understand very +well!’ Nikita would reply. He was quite aware that Vasili Andreevich was +cheating him, but at the same time he felt that it was useless to try +to clear up his accounts with him or explain his side of the matter, and +that as long as he had nowhere to go he must accept what he could get. + +Now, having heard his master’s order to harness, he went as usual +cheerfully and willingly to the shed, stepping briskly and easily on his +rather turned-in feet; took down from a nail the heavy tasselled leather +bridle, and jingling the rings of the bit went to the closed stable +where the horse he was to harness was standing by himself. + +‘What, feeling lonely, feeling lonely, little silly?’ said Nikita in +answer to the low whinny with which he was greeted by the good-tempered, +medium-sized bay stallion, with a rather slanting crupper, who stood +alone in the shed. ‘Now then, now then, there’s time enough. Let me +water you first,’ he went on, speaking to the horse just as to someone +who understood the words he was using, and having whisked the dusty, +grooved back of the well-fed young stallion with the skirt of his +coat, he put a bridle on his handsome head, straightened his ears and +forelock, and having taken off his halter led him out to water. + +Picking his way out of the dung-strewn stable, Mukhorty frisked, and +making play with his hind leg pretended that he meant to kick Nikita, +who was running at a trot beside him to the pump. + +‘Now then, now then, you rascal!’ Nikita called out, well knowing how +carefully Mukhorty threw out his hind leg just to touch his greasy +sheepskin coat but not to strike him--a trick Nikita much appreciated. + +After a drink of the cold water the horse sighed, moving his strong wet +lips, from the hairs of which transparent drops fell into the trough; +then standing still as if in thought, he suddenly gave a loud snort. + +‘If you don’t want any more, you needn’t. But don’t go asking for any +later,’ said Nikita quite seriously and fully explaining his conduct to +Mukhorty. Then he ran back to the shed pulling the playful young horse, +who wanted to gambol all over the yard, by the rein. + +There was no one else in the yard except a stranger, the cook’s husband, +who had come for the holiday. + +‘Go and ask which sledge is to be harnessed--the wide one or the small +one--there’s a good fellow!’ + +The cook’s husband went into the house, which stood on an iron +foundation and was iron-roofed, and soon returned saying that the little +one was to be harnessed. By that time Nikita had put the collar and +brass-studded belly-band on Mukhorty and, carrying a light, painted +shaft-bow in one hand, was leading the horse with the other up to two +sledges that stood in the shed. + +‘All right, let it be the little one!’ he said, backing the intelligent +horse, which all the time kept pretending to bite him, into the shafts, +and with the aid of the cook’s husband he proceeded to harness. When +everything was nearly ready and only the reins had to be adjusted, +Nikita sent the other man to the shed for some straw and to the barn for +a drugget. + +‘There, that’s all right! Now, now, don’t bristle up!’ said Nikita, +pressing down into the sledge the freshly threshed oat straw the cook’s +husband had brought. ‘And now let’s spread the sacking like this, and +the drugget over it. There, like that it will be comfortable sitting,’ +he went on, suiting the action to the words and tucking the drugget all +round over the straw to make a seat. + +‘Thank you, dear man. Things always go quicker with two working at it!’ +he added. And gathering up the leather reins fastened together by a +brass ring, Nikita took the driver’s seat and started the impatient +horse over the frozen manure which lay in the yard, towards the gate. + +‘Uncle Nikita! I say, Uncle, Uncle!’ a high-pitched voice shouted, and a +seven-year-old boy in a black sheepskin coat, new white felt boots, and +a warm cap, ran hurriedly out of the house into the yard. ‘Take me with +you!’ he cried, fastening up his coat as he ran. + +‘All right, come along, darling!’ said Nikita, and stopping the sledge +he picked up the master’s pale thin little son, radiant with joy, and +drove out into the road. + +It was past two o’clock and the day was windy, dull, and cold, with more +than twenty degrees Fahrenheit of frost. Half the sky was hidden by a +lowering dark cloud. In the yard it was quiet, but in the street the +wind was felt more keenly. The snow swept down from a neighbouring shed +and whirled about in the corner near the bath-house. + +Hardly had Nikita driven out of the yard and turned the horse’s head to +the house, before Vasili Andreevich emerged from the high porch in front +of the house with a cigarette in his mouth and wearing a cloth-covered +sheep-skin coat tightly girdled low at his waist, and stepped onto the +hard-trodden snow which squeaked under the leather soles of his felt +boots, and stopped. Taking a last whiff of his cigarette he threw it +down, stepped on it, and letting the smoke escape through his moustache +and looking askance at the horse that was coming up, began to tuck +in his sheepskin collar on both sides of his ruddy face, clean-shaven +except for the moustache, so that his breath should not moisten the +collar. + +‘See now! The young scamp is there already!’ he exclaimed when he saw +his little son in the sledge. Vasili Andreevich was excited by the vodka +he had drunk with his visitors, and so he was even more pleased than +usual with everything that was his and all that he did. The sight of +his son, whom he always thought of as his heir, now gave him great +satisfaction. He looked at him, screwing up his eyes and showing his +long teeth. + +His wife--pregnant, thin and pale, with her head and shoulders wrapped +in a shawl so that nothing of her face could be seen but her eyes--stood +behind him in the vestibule to see him off. + +‘Now really, you ought to take Nikita with you,’ she said timidly, +stepping out from the doorway. + +Vasili Andreevich did not answer. Her words evidently annoyed him and he +frowned angrily and spat. + +‘You have money on you,’ she continued in the same plaintive voice. +‘What if the weather gets worse! Do take him, for goodness’ sake!’ + +‘Why? Don’t I know the road that I must needs take a guide?’ exclaimed +Vasili Andreevich, uttering every word very distinctly and compressing +his lips unnaturally, as he usually did when speaking to buyers and +sellers. + +‘Really you ought to take him. I beg you in God’s name!’ his wife +repeated, wrapping her shawl more closely round her head. + +‘There, she sticks to it like a leech!... Where am I to take him?’ + +‘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 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 +changing 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, changing 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 searched 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,’ Nikita +suddenly remarked, as if it were a pleasant thing. ‘What is that?’ he +added, pointing to some potato vines that showed up from under the snow. + +Vasili Andreevich stopped the perspiring horse, whose deep sides were +heaving heavily. + +‘What is it?’ + +‘Why, we are on the Zakharov lands. See where we’ve got to!’ + +‘Nonsense!’ retorted Vasili Andreevich. + +‘It’s not nonsense, Vasili Andreevich. It’s the truth,’ replied Nikita. +‘You can feel that the sledge is going over a potato-field, and there +are the heaps of vines which have been carted here. It’s the Zakharov +factory land.’ + +‘Dear me, how we have gone astray!’ said Vasili Andreevich. ‘What are we +to do now?’ + +‘We must go straight on, that’s all. We shall come out somewhere--if not +at Zakharova, then at the proprietor’s farm,’ said Nikita. + +Vasili Andreevich agreed, and drove as Nikita had indicated. So they +went on for a considerable time. At times they came onto bare fields and +the sledge-runners rattled over frozen lumps of earth. Sometimes they +got onto a winter-rye field, or a fallow field on which they could see +stalks of wormwood, and straws sticking up through the snow and swaying +in the wind; sometimes they came onto deep and even white snow, above +which nothing was to be seen. + +The snow was falling from above and sometimes rose from below. The horse +was evidently exhausted, his hair had all curled up from sweat and was +covered with hoar-frost, and he went at a walk. Suddenly he stumbled and +sat down in a ditch or water-course. Vasili Andreevich wanted to stop, +but Nikita cried to him: + +‘Why stop? We’ve got in and must get out. Hey, pet! Hey, darling! Gee +up, old fellow!’ he shouted in a cheerful tone to the horse, jumping out +of the sledge and himself getting stuck in the ditch. + +The horse gave a start and quickly climbed out onto the frozen bank. It +was evidently a ditch that had been dug there. + +‘Where are we now?’ asked Vasili Andreevich. + +‘We’ll soon find out!’ Nikita replied. ‘Go on, we’ll get somewhere.’ + +‘Why, this must be the Goryachkin forest!’ said Vasili Andreevich, +pointing to something dark that appeared amid the snow in front of them. + +‘We’ll see what forest it is when we get there,’ said Nikita. + +He saw that beside the black thing they had noticed, dry, oblong +willow-leaves were fluttering, and so he knew it was not a forest but a +settlement, but he did not wish to say so. And in fact they had not gone +twenty-five yards beyond the ditch before something in front of them, +evidently trees, showed up black, and they heard a new and melancholy +sound. Nikita had guessed right: it was not a wood, but a row of tall +willows with a few leaves still fluttering on them here and there. They +had evidently been planted along the ditch round a threshing-floor. +Coming up to the willows, which moaned sadly in the wind, the horse +suddenly planted his forelegs above the height of the sledge, drew up +his hind legs also, pulling the sledge onto higher ground, and turned to +the left, no longer sinking up to his knees in snow. They were back on a +road. + +‘Well, here we are, but heaven only knows where!’ said Nikita. + +The horse kept straight along the road through the drifted snow, and +before they had gone another hundred yards the straight line of the +dark wattle wall of a barn showed up black before them, its roof heavily +covered with snow which poured down from it. After passing the barn the +road turned to the wind and they drove into a snow-drift. But ahead of +them was a lane with houses on either side, so evidently the snow had +been blown across the road and they had to drive through the drift. And +so in fact it was. Having driven through the snow they came out into a +street. At the end house of the village some frozen clothes hanging on +a line--shirts, one red and one white, trousers, leg-bands, and a +petticoat--fluttered wildly in the wind. The white shirt in particular +struggled desperately, waving its sleeves about. + +‘There now, either a lazy woman or a dead one has not taken her clothes +down before the holiday,’ remarked Nikita, looking at the fluttering +shirts. + + + + +III + +At the entrance to the street the wind still raged and the road was +thickly covered with snow, but well within the village it was calm, +warm, and cheerful. At one house a dog was barking, at another a woman, +covering her head with her coat, came running from somewhere and entered +the door of a hut, stopping on the threshold to have a look at the +passing sledge. In the middle of the village girls could be heard +singing. + +Here in the village there seemed to be less wind and snow, and the frost +was less keen. + +‘Why, this is Grishkino,’ said Vasili Andreevich. + +‘So it is,’ responded Nikita. + +It really was Grishkino, which meant that they had gone too far to the +left and had travelled some six miles, not quite in the direction they +aimed at, but towards their destination for all that. + +From Grishkino to Goryachkin was about another four miles. + +In the middle of the village they almost ran into a tall man walking +down the middle of the street. + +‘Who are you?’ shouted the man, stopping the horse, and recognizing +Vasili Anereevich he immediately took hold of the shaft, went along it +hand over hand till he reached the sledge, and placed himself on the +driver’s seat. + +He was Isay, a peasant of Vasili Andreevich’s acquaintance, and well +known as the principal horse-thief in the district. + +‘Ah, Vasili Andreevich! Where are you off to?’ said Isay, enveloping +Nikita in the odour of the vodka he had drunk. + +‘We were going to Goryachkin.’ + +‘And look where you’ve got to! You should have gone through +Molchanovka.’ + +‘Should have, but didn’t manage it,’ said Vasili Andreevich, holding in +the horse. + +‘That’s a good horse,’ said Isay, with a shrewd glance at Mukhorty, and +with a practised hand he tightened the loosened knot high in the horse’s +bushy tail. + +‘Are you going to stay the night?’ + +‘No, friend. I must get on.’ + +‘Your business must be pressing. And who is this? Ah, Nikita Stepanych!’ + +‘Who else?’ replied Nikita. ‘But I say, good friend, how are we to avoid +going astray again?’ + +‘Where can you go astray here? Turn back straight down the street and +then when you come out keep straight on. Don’t take to the left. You +will come out onto the high road, and then turn to the right.’ + +‘And where do we turn off the high road? As in summer, or the winter +way?’ asked Nikita. + +‘The winter way. As soon as you turn off you’ll see some bushes, and +opposite them there is a way-mark--a large oak, one with branches--and +that’s the way.’ + +Vasili Andreevich turned the horse back and drove through the outskirts +of the village. + +‘Why not stay the night?’ Isay shouted after them. + +But Vasili Andreevich did not answer and touched up the horse. Four +miles of good road, two of which lay through the forest, seemed easy to +manage, especially as the wind was apparently quieter and the snow had +stopped. + +Having driven along the trodden village street, darkened here and there +by fresh manure, past the yard where the clothes hung out and where the +white shirt had broken loose and was now attached only by one frozen +sleeve, they again came within sound of the weird moan of the willows, +and again emerged on the open fields. The storm, far from ceasing, +seemed to have grown yet stronger. The road was completely covered with +drifting snow, and only the stakes showed that they had not lost their +way. But even the stakes ahead of them were not easy to see, since the +wind blew in their faces. + +Vasili Andreevich screwed up his eyes, bent down his head, and looked +out for the way-marks, but trusted mainly to the horse’s sagacity, +letting it take its own way. And the horse really did not lose the road +but followed its windings, turning now to the right and now to the left +and sensing it under his feet, so that though the snow fell thicker and +the wind strengthened they still continued to see way-marks now to the +left and now to the right of them. + +So they travelled on for about ten minutes, when suddenly, through the +slanting screen of wind-driven snow, something black showed up which +moved in front of the horse. + +This was another sledge with fellow-travellers. Mukhorty overtook them, +and struck his hoofs against the back of the sledge in front of them. + +‘Pass on... hey there... get in front!’ cried voices from the +sledge. + +Vasili Andreevich swerved aside to pass the other sledge. + +In it sat three men and a woman, evidently visitors returning from a +feast. One peasant was whacking the snow-covered croup of their little +horse with a long switch, and the other two sitting in front waved their +arms and shouted something. The woman, completely wrapped up and covered +with snow, sat drowsing and bumping at the back. + +‘Who are you?’ shouted Vasili Andreevich. + +‘From A-a-a...’ was all that could be heard. + +‘I say, where are you from?’ + +‘From A-a-a-a!’ one of the peasants shouted with all his might, but +still it was impossible to make out who they were. + +‘Get along! Keep up!’ shouted another, ceaselessly beating his horse +with the switch. + +‘So you’re from a feast, it seems?’ + +‘Go on, go on! Faster, Simon! Get in front! Faster!’ + +The wings of the sledges bumped against one another, almost got jammed +but managed to separate, and the peasants’ sledge began to fall behind. + +Their shaggy, big-bellied horse, all covered with snow, breathed heavily +under the low shaft-bow and, evidently using the last of its strength, +vainly endeavoured to escape from the switch, hobbling with its short +legs through the deep snow which it threw up under itself. + +Its muzzle, young-looking, with the nether lip drawn up like that of a +fish, nostrils distended and ears pressed back from fear, kept up for a +few seconds near Nikita’s shoulder and then began to fall behind. + +‘Just see what liquor does!’ said Nikita. ‘They’ve tired that little +horse to death. What pagans!’ + +For a few minutes they heard the panting of the tired little horse and +the drunken shouting of the peasants. Then the panting and the shouts +died away, and around them nothing could be heard but the whistling +of the wind in their ears and now and then the squeak of their +sledge-runners over a windswept part of the road. + +This encounter cheered and enlivened Vasili Andreevich, and he drove +on more boldly without examining the way-marks, urging on the horse and +trusting to him. + +Nikita had nothing to do, and as usual in such circumstances he drowsed, +making up for much sleepless time. Suddenly the horse stopped and Nikita +nearly fell forward onto his nose. + +‘You know we’re off the track again!’ said Vasili Andreevich. + +‘How’s that?’ + +‘Why, there are no way-marks to be seen. We must have got off the road +again.’ + +‘Well, if we’ve lost the road we must find it,’ said Nikita curtly, and +getting out and stepping lightly on his pigeon-toed feet he started once +more going about on the snow. + +He walked about for a long time, now disappearing and now reappearing, +and finally he came back. + +‘There is no road here. There may be farther on,’ he said, getting into +the sledge. + +It was already growing dark. The snow-storm had not increased but had +also not subsided. + +‘If we could only hear those peasants!’ said Vasili Andreevich. + +‘Well they haven’t caught us up. We must have gone far astray. Or maybe +they have lost their way too.’ + +‘Where are we to go then?’ asked Vasili Andreevich. + +‘Why, we must let the horse take its own way,’ said Nikita. ‘He will +take us right. Let me have the reins.’ + +Vasili Andreevich gave him the reins, the more willingly because his +hands were beginning to feel frozen in his thick gloves. + +Nikita took the reins, but only held them, trying not to shake them +and rejoicing at his favourite’s sagacity. And indeed the clever horse, +turning first one ear and then the other now to one side and then to the +other, began to wheel round. + +‘The one thing he can’t do is to talk,’ Nikita kept saying. ‘See what he +is doing! Go on, go on! You know best. That’s it, that’s it!’ + +The wind was now blowing from behind and it felt warmer. + +‘Yes, he’s clever,’ Nikita continued, admiring the horse. ‘A Kirgiz +horse is strong but stupid. But this one--just see what he’s doing with +his ears! He doesn’t need any telegraph. He can scent a mile off.’ + +Before another half-hour had passed they saw something dark ahead of +them--a wood or a village--and stakes again appeared to the right. They +had evidently come out onto the road. + +‘Why, that’s Grishkino again!’ Nikita suddenly exclaimed. + +And indeed, there on their left was that same barn with the snow flying +from it, and farther on the same line with the frozen washing, shirts +and trousers, which still fluttered desperately in the wind. + +Again they drove into the street and again it grew quiet, warm, and +cheerful, and again they could see the manure-stained street and hear +voices and songs and the barking of a dog. It was already so dark that +there were lights in some of the windows. + +Half-way through the village Vasili Andreevich turned the horse towards +a large double-fronted brick house and stopped at the porch. + +Nikita went to the lighted snow-covered window, in the rays of which +flying snow-flakes glittered, and knocked at it with his whip. + +‘Who is there?’ a voice replied to his knock. + +‘From Kresty, the Brekhunovs, dear fellow,’ answered Nikita. ‘Just come +out for a minute.’ + +Someone moved from the window, and a minute or two later there was the +sound of the passage door as it came unstuck, then the latch of the +outside door clicked and a tall white-bearded peasant, with a sheepskin +coat thrown over his white holiday shirt, pushed his way out holding the +door firmly against the wind, followed by a lad in a red shirt and high +leather boots. + +‘Is that you, Andreevich?’ asked the old man. + +‘Yes, friend, we’ve gone astray,’ said Vasili Andreevich. ‘We wanted to +get to Goryachkin but found ourselves here. We went a second time but +lost our way again.’ + +‘Just see how you have gone astray!’ said the old man. ‘Petrushka, go +and open the gate!’ he added, turning to the lad in the red shirt. + +‘All right,’ said the lad in a cheerful voice, and ran back into the +passage. + +‘But we’re not staying the night,’ said Vasili Andreevich. + +‘Where will you go in the night? You’d better stay!’ + +‘I’d be glad to, but I must go on. It’s business, and it can’t be +helped.’ + +‘Well, warm yourself at least. The samovar is just ready.’ + +‘Warm myself? Yes, I’ll do that,’ said Vasili Andreevich. ‘It won’t get +darker. The moon will rise and it will be lighter. Let’s go in and warm +ourselves, Nikita.’ + +‘Well, why not? Let us warm ourselves,’ replied Nikita, who was stiff +with cold and anxious to warm his frozen limbs. + +Vasili Andreevich went into the room with the old man, and Nikita drove +through the gate opened for him by Petrushka, by whose advice he backed +the horse under the penthouse. The ground was covered with manure and +the tall bow over the horse’s head caught against the beam. The hens +and the cock had already settled to roost there, and clucked peevishly, +clinging to the beam with their claws. The disturbed sheep shied and +rushed aside trampling the frozen manure with their hooves. The dog +yelped desperately with fright and anger and then burst out barking like +a puppy at the stranger. + +Nikita talked to them all, excused himself to the fowls and assured +them that he would not disturb them again, rebuked the sheep for being +frightened without knowing why, and kept soothing the dog, while he tied +up the horse. + +‘Now that will be all right,’ he said, knocking the snow off his +clothes. ‘Just hear how he barks!’ he added, turning to the dog. ‘Be +quiet, stupid! Be quiet. You are only troubling yourself for nothing. +We’re not thieves, we’re friends....’ + +‘And these are, it’s said, the three domestic counsellors,’ remarked the +lad, and with his strong arms he pushed under the pent-roof the sledge +that had remained outside. + +‘Why counsellors?’ asked Nikita. + +‘That’s what is printed in Paulson. A thief creeps to a house--the dog +barks, that means “Be on your guard!” The cock crows, that means, “Get +up!” The cat licks herself--that means, “A welcome guest is coming. Get +ready to receive him!”’ said the lad with a smile. + +Petrushka could read and write and knew Paulson’s primer, his only book, +almost by heart, and he was fond of quoting sayings from it that he +thought suited the occasion, especially when he had had something to +drink, as to-day. + +‘That’s so,’ said Nikita. + +‘You must be chilled through and through,’ said Petrushka. + +‘Yes, I am rather,’ said Nikita, and they went across the yard and the +passage into the house. + + + + +IV + +The household to which Vasili Andreevich had come was one of the richest +in the village. The family had five allotments, besides renting other +land. They had six horses, three cows, two calves, and some twenty +sheep. There were twenty-two members belonging to the homestead: four +married sons, six grandchildren (one of whom, Petrushka, was married), +two great-grandchildren, three orphans, and four daughters-in-law with +their babies. It was one of the few homesteads that remained still +undivided, but even here the dull internal work of disintegration which +would inevitably lead to separation had already begun, starting as usual +among the women. Two sons were living in Moscow as water-carriers, and +one was in the army. At home now were the old man and his wife, their +second son who managed the homestead, the eldest who had come from +Moscow for the holiday, and all the women and children. Besides these +members of the family there was a visitor, a neighbour who was godfather +to one of the children. + +Over the table in the room hung a lamp with a shade, which brightly lit +up the tea-things, a bottle of vodka, and some refreshments, besides +illuminating the brick walls, which in the far corner were hung with +icons on both sides of which were pictures. At the head of the table +sat Vasili Andreevich in a black sheepskin coat, sucking his frozen +moustache and observing the room and the people around him with his +prominent hawk-like eyes. With him sat the old, bald, white-bearded +master of the house in a white homespun shirt, and next him the son +home from Moscow for the holiday--a man with a sturdy back and powerful +shoulders and clad in a thin print shirt--then the second son, also +broad-shouldered, who acted as head of the house, and then a lean +red-haired peasant--the neighbour. + +Having had a drink of vodka and something to eat, they were about to +take tea, and the samovar standing on the floor beside the brick oven +was already humming. The children could be seen in the top bunks and on +the top of the oven. A woman sat on a lower bunk with a cradle beside +her. The old housewife, her face covered with wrinkles which wrinkled +even her lips, was waiting on Vasili Andreevich. + +As Nikita entered the house she was offering her guest a small tumbler +of thick glass which she had just filled with vodka. + +‘Don’t refuse, Vasili Andreevich, you mustn’t! Wish us a merry feast. +Drink it, dear!’ she said. + +The sight and smell of vodka, especially now when he was chilled through +and tired out, much disturbed Nikita’s mind. He frowned, and having +shaken the snow off his cap and coat, stopped in front of the icons +as if not seeing anyone, crossed himself three times, and bowed to the +icons. Then, turning to the old master of the house and bowing first +to him, then to all those at table, then to the women who stood by the +oven, and muttering: ‘A merry holiday!’ he began taking off his outer +things without looking at the table. + +‘Why, you’re all covered with hoar-frost, old fellow!’ said the eldest +brother, looking at Nikita’s snow-covered face, eyes, and beard. + +Nikita took off his coat, shook it again, hung it up beside the oven, +and came up to the table. He too was offered vodka. He went through a +moment of painful hesitation and nearly took up the glass and emptied +the clear fragrant liquid down his throat, but he glanced at Vasili +Andreevich, remembered his oath and the boots that he had sold for +drink, recalled the cooper, remembered his son for whom he had promised +to buy a horse by spring, sighed, and declined it. + +‘I don’t drink, thank you kindly,’ he said frowning, and sat down on a +bench near the second window. + +‘How’s that?’ asked the eldest brother. + +‘I just don’t drink,’ replied Nikita without lifting his eyes but +looking askance at his scanty beard and moustache and getting the +icicles out of them. + +‘It’s not good for him,’ said Vasili Andreevich, munching a cracknel +after emptying his glass. + +‘Well, then, have some tea,’ said the kindly old hostess. ‘You must +be chilled through, good soul. Why are you women dawdling so with the +samovar?’ + +‘It is ready,’ said one of the young women, and after flicking with her +apron the top of the samovar which was now boiling over, she carried it +with an effort to the table, raised it, and set it down with a thud. + +Meanwhile Vasili Andreevich was telling how he had lost his way, how +they had come back twice to this same village, and how they had gone +astray and had met some drunken peasants. Their hosts were surprised, +explained where and why they had missed their way, said who the tipsy +people they had met were, and told them how they ought to go. + +‘A little child could find the way to Molchanovka from here. All you +have to do is to take the right turning from the high road. There’s a +bush you can see just there. But you didn’t even get that far!’ said the +neighbour. + +‘You’d better stay the night. The women will make up beds for you,’ said +the old woman persuasively. + +‘You could go on in the morning and it would be pleasanter,’ said the +old man, confirming what his wife had said. + +‘I can’t, friend. Business!’ said Vasili Andreevich. ‘Lose an hour and +you can’t catch it up in a year,’ he added, remembering the grove and +the dealers who might snatch that deal from him. ‘We shall get there, +shan’t we?’ he said, turning to Nikita. + +Nikita did not answer for some time, apparently still intent on thawing +out his beard and moustache. + +‘If only we don’t go astray again,’ he replied gloomily. He was gloomy +because he passionately longed for some vodka, and the only thing that +could assuage that longing was tea and he had not yet been offered any. + +‘But we have only to reach the turning and then we shan’t go wrong. The +road will be through the forest the whole way,’ said Vasili Andreevich. + +‘It’s just as you please, Vasili Andreevich. If we’re to go, let us go,’ +said Nikita, taking the glass of tea he was offered. + +‘We’ll drink our tea and be off.’ + +Nikita said nothing but only shook his head, and carefully pouring some +tea into his saucer began warming his hands, the fingers of which were +always swollen with hard work, over the steam. Then, biting off a tiny +bit of sugar, he bowed to his hosts, said, ‘Your health!’ and drew in +the steaming liquid. + +‘If somebody would see us as far as the turning,’ said Vasili +Andreevich. + +‘Well, we can do that,’ said the eldest son. ‘Petrushka will harness and +go that far with you.’ + +‘Well, then, put in the horse, lad, and I shall be thankful to you for +it.’ + +‘Oh, what for, dear man?’ said the kindly old woman. ‘We are heartily +glad to do it.’ + +‘Petrushka, go and put in the mare,’ said the eldest brother. + +‘All right,’ replied Petrushka with a smile, and promptly snatching his +cap down from a nail he ran away to harness. + +While the horse was being harnessed the talk returned to the point at +which it had stopped when Vasili Andreevich drove up to the window. The +old man had been complaining to his neighbour, the village elder, about +his third son who had not sent him anything for the holiday though he +had sent a French shawl to his wife. + +‘The young people are getting out of hand,’ said the old man. + +‘And how they do!’ said the neighbour. ‘There’s no managing them! They +know too much. There’s Demochkin now, who broke his father’s arm. It’s +all from being too clever, it seems.’ + +Nikita listened, watched their faces, and evidently would have liked to +share in the conversation, but he was too busy drinking his tea and only +nodded his head approvingly. He emptied one tumbler after another and +grew warmer and warmer and more and more comfortable. The talk continued +on the same subject for a long time--the harmfulness of a household +dividing up--and it was clearly not an abstract discussion but concerned +the question of a separation in that house; a separation demanded by the +second son who sat there morosely silent. + +It was evidently a sore subject and absorbed them all, but out of +propriety they did not discuss their private affairs before strangers. +At last, however, the old man could not restrain himself, and with tears +in his eyes declared that he would not consent to a break-up of the +family during his lifetime, that his house was prospering, thank God, +but that if they separated they would all have to go begging. + +‘Just like the Matveevs,’ said the neighbour. ‘They used to have a +proper house, but now they’ve split up none of them has anything.’ + +‘And that is what you want to happen to us,’ said the old man, turning +to his son. + +The son made no reply and there was an awkward pause. The silence was +broken by Petrushka, who having harnessed the horse had returned to the +hut a few minutes before this and had been listening all the time with a +smile. + +‘There’s a fable about that in Paulson,’ he said. ‘A father gave his +sons a broom to break. At first they could not break it, but when they +took it twig by twig they broke it easily. And it’s the same here,’ and +he gave a broad smile. ‘I’m ready!’ he added. + +‘If you’re ready, let’s go,’ said Vasili Andreevich. ‘And as to +separating, don’t you allow it, Grandfather. You got everything together +and you’re the master. Go to the Justice of the Peace. He’ll say how +things should be done.’ + +‘He carries on so, carries on so,’ the old man continued in a whining +tone. ‘There’s no doing anything with him. It’s as if the devil +possessed him.’ + +Nikita having meanwhile finished his fifth tumbler of tea laid it on +its side instead of turning it upside down, hoping to be offered a sixth +glass. But there was no more water in the samovar, so the hostess did +not fill it up for him. Besides, Vasili Andreevich was putting his +things on, so there was nothing for it but for Nikita to get up too, put +back into the sugar-basin the lump of sugar he had nibbled all round, +wipe his perspiring face with the skirt of his sheepskin, and go to put +on his overcoat. + +Having put it on he sighed deeply, thanked his hosts, said good-bye, +and went out of the warm bright room into the cold dark passage, through +which the wind was howling and where snow was blowing through the cracks +of the shaking door, and from there into the yard. + +Petrushka stood in his sheepskin in the middle of the yard by his horse, +repeating some lines from Paulson’s primer. He said with a smile: + + ‘Storms with mist the sky conceal, + Snowy circles wheeling wild. + Now like savage beast ‘twill howl, + And now ‘tis wailing like a child.’ + +Nikita nodded approvingly as he arranged the reins. + +The old man, seeing Vasili Andreevich off, brought a lantern into the +passage to show him a light, but it was blown out at once. And even in +the yard it was evident that the snowstorm had become more violent. + +‘Well, this is weather!’ thought Vasili Andreevich. ‘Perhaps we may not +get there after all. But there is nothing to be done. Business! Besides, +we have got ready, our host’s horse has been harnessed, and we’ll get +there with God’s help!’ + +Their aged host also thought they ought not to go, but he had already +tried to persuade them to stay and had not been listened to. + +‘It’s no use asking them again. Maybe my age makes me timid. They’ll +get there all right, and at least we shall get to bed in good time and +without any fuss,’ he thought. + +Petrushka did not think of danger. He knew the road and the whole +district so well, and the lines about ‘snowy circles wheeling wild’ +described what was happening outside so aptly that it cheered him up. +Nikita did not wish to go at all, but he had been accustomed not to have +his own way and to serve others for so long that there was no one to +hinder the departing travellers. + + + + +V + +Vasili Andreevich went over to his sledge, found it with difficulty in +the darkness, climbed in and took the reins. + +‘Go on in front!’ he cried. + +Petrushka kneeling in his low sledge started his horse. Mukhorty, who +had been neighing for some time past, now scenting a mare ahead of him +started after her, and they drove out into the street. They drove again +through the outskirts of the village and along the same road, past the +yard where the frozen linen had hung (which, however, was no longer to +be seen), past the same barn, which was now snowed up almost to the +roof and from which the snow was still endlessly pouring past the same +dismally moaning, whistling, and swaying willows, and again entered into +the sea of blustering snow raging from above and below. The wind was +so strong that when it blew from the side and the travellers steered +against it, it tilted the sledges and turned the horses to one side. +Petrushka drove his good mare in front at a brisk trot and kept shouting +lustily. Mukhorty pressed after her. + +After travelling so for about ten minutes, Petrushka turned round and +shouted something. Neither Vasili Andreevich nor Nikita could hear +anything because of the wind, but they guessed that they had arrived at +the turning. In fact Petrushka had turned to the right, and now the wind +that had blown from the side blew straight in their faces, and through +the snow they saw something dark on their right. It was the bush at the +turning. + +‘Well now, God speed you!’ + +‘Thank you, Petrushka!’ + +‘Storms with mist the sky conceal!’ shouted Petrushka as he disappeared. + +‘There’s a poet for you!’ muttered Vasili Andreevich, pulling at the +reins. + +‘Yes, a fine lad--a true peasant,’ said Nikita. + +They drove on. + +Nikita, wrapping his coat closely about him and pressing his head down +so close to his shoulders that his short beard covered his throat, sat +silently, trying not to lose the warmth he had obtained while drinking +tea in the house. Before him he saw the straight lines of the +shafts which constantly deceived him into thinking they were on a +well-travelled road, and the horse’s swaying crupper with his knotted +tail blown to one side, and farther ahead the high shaft-bow and the +swaying head and neck of the horse with its waving mane. Now and then +he caught sight of a way-sign, so that he knew they were still on a road +and that there was nothing for him to be concerned about. + +Vasili Andreevich drove on, leaving it to the horse to keep to the road. +But Mukhorty, though he had had a breathing-space in the village, ran +reluctantly, and seemed now and then to get off the road, so that Vasili +Andreevich had repeatedly to correct him. + +‘Here’s a stake to the right, and another, and here’s a third,’ Vasili +Andreevich counted, ‘and here in front is the forest,’ thought he, as he +looked at something dark in front of him. But what had seemed to him a +forest was only a bush. They passed the bush and drove on for another +hundred yards but there was no fourth way-mark nor any forest. + +‘We must reach the forest soon,’ thought Vasili Andreevich, and animated +by the vodka and the tea he did not stop but shook the reins, and the +good obedient horse responded, now ambling, now slowly trotting in the +direction in which he was sent, though he knew that he was not going the +right way. Ten minutes went by, but there was still no forest. + +‘There now, we must be astray again,’ said Vasili Andreevich, pulling +up. + +Nikita silently got out of the sledge and holding his coat, which the +wind now wrapped closely about him and now almost tore off, started to +feel about in the snow, going first to one side and then to the other. +Three or four times he was completely lost to sight. At last he returned +and took the reins from Vasili Andreevich’s hand. + +‘We must go to the right,’ he said sternly and peremptorily, as he +turned the horse. + +‘Well, if it’s to the right, go to the right,’ said Vasili Andreevich, +yielding up the reins to Nikita and thrusting his freezing hands into +his sleeves. + +Nikita did not reply. + +‘Now then, friend, stir yourself!’ he shouted to the horse, but in spite +of the shake of the reins Mukhorty moved only at a walk. + +The snow in places was up to his knees, and the sledge moved by fits and +starts with his every movement. + +Nikita took the whip that hung over the front of the sledge and struck +him once. The good horse, unused to the whip, sprang forward and moved +at a trot, but immediately fell back into an amble and then to a walk. +So they went on for five minutes. It was dark and the snow whirled from +above and rose from below, so that sometimes the shaft-bow could not +be seen. At times the sledge seemed to stand still and the field to +run backwards. Suddenly the horse stopped abruptly, evidently aware +of something close in front of him. Nikita again sprang lightly out, +throwing down the reins, and went ahead to see what had brought him to +a standstill, but hardly had he made a step in front of the horse before +his feet slipped and he went rolling down an incline. + +‘Whoa, whoa, whoa!’ he said to himself as he fell, and he tried to stop +his fall but could not, and only stopped when his feet plunged into a +thick layer of snow that had drifted to the bottom of the hollow. + +The fringe of a drift of snow that hung on the edge of the hollow, +disturbed by Nikita’s fall, showered down on him and got inside his +collar. + +‘What a thing to do!’ said Nikita reproachfully, addressing the drift +and the hollow and shaking the snow from under his collar. + +‘Nikita! Hey, Nikita!’ shouted Vasili Andreevich from above. + +But Nikita did not reply. He was too occupied in shaking out the snow +and searching for the whip he had dropped when rolling down the incline. +Having found the whip he tried to climb straight up the bank where he +had rolled down, but it was impossible to do so: he kept rolling down +again, and so he had to go along at the foot of the hollow to find a way +up. About seven yards farther on he managed with difficulty to crawl up +the incline on all fours, then he followed the edge of the hollow back +to the place where the horse should have been. He could not see either +horse or sledge, but as he walked against the wind he heard Vasili +Andreevich’s shouts and Mukhorty’s neighing, calling him. + +‘I’m coming! I’m coming! What are you cackling for?’ he muttered. + +Only when he had come up to the sledge could he make out the horse, and +Vasili Andreevich standing beside it and looking gigantic. + +‘Where the devil did you vanish to? We must go back, if only to +Grishkino,’ he began reproaching Nikita. + +‘I’d be glad to get back, Vasili Andreevich, but which way are we to go? +There is such a ravine here that if we once get in it we shan’t get out +again. I got stuck so fast there myself that I could hardly get out.’ + +‘What shall we do, then? We can’t stay here! We must go somewhere!’ said +Vasili Andreevich. + +Nikita said nothing. He seated himself in the sledge with his back to +the wind, took off his boots, shook out the snow that had got into them, +and taking some straw from the bottom of the sledge, carefully plugged +with it a hole in his left boot. + +Vasili Andreevich remained silent, as though now leaving everything to +Nikita. Having put his boots on again, Nikita drew his feet into the +sledge, put on his mittens and took up the reins, and directed the horse +along the side of the ravine. But they had not gone a hundred yards +before the horse again stopped short. The ravine was in front of him +again. + +Nikita again climbed out and again trudged about in the snow. He did +this for a considerable time and at last appeared from the opposite side +to that from which he had started. + +‘Vasili Andreevich, are you alive?’ he called out. + +‘Here!’ replied Vasili Andreevich. ‘Well, what now?’ + +‘I can’t make anything out. It’s too dark. There’s nothing but ravines. +We must drive against the wind again.’ + +They set off once more. Again Nikita went stumbling through the snow, +again he fell in, again climbed out and trudged about, and at last quite +out of breath he sat down beside the sledge. + +‘Well, how now?’ asked Vasili Andreevich. + +‘Why, I am quite worn out and the horse won’t go.’ + +‘Then what’s to be done?’ + +‘Why, wait a minute.’ + +Nikita went away again but soon returned. + +‘Follow me!’ he said, going in front of the horse. + +Vasili Andreevich no longer gave orders but implicitly did what Nikita +told him. + +‘Here, follow me!’ Nikita shouted, stepping quickly to the right, and +seizing the rein he led Mukhorty down towards a snow-drift. + +At first the horse held back, then he jerked forward, hoping to leap the +drift, but he had not the strength and sank into it up to his collar. + +‘Get out!’ Nikita called to Vasili Andreevich who still sat in the +sledge, and taking hold of one shaft he moved the sledge closer to +the horse. ‘It’s hard, brother!’ he said to Mukhorty, ‘but it can’t be +helped. Make an effort! Now, now, just a little one!’ he shouted. + +The horse gave a tug, then another, but failed to clear himself and +settled down again as if considering something. + +‘Now, brother, this won’t do!’ Nikita admonished him. ‘Now once more!’ + +Again Nikita tugged at the shaft on his side, and Vasili Andreevich did +the same on the other. + +Mukhorty lifted his head and then gave a sudden jerk. + +‘That’s it! That’s it!’ cried Nikita. ‘Don’t be afraid--you won’t sink!’ + +One plunge, another, and a third, and at last Mukhorty was out of the +snow-drift, and stood still, breathing heavily and shaking the snow off +himself. Nikita wished to lead him farther, but Vasili Andreevich, in +his two fur coats, was so out of breath that he could not walk farther +and dropped into the sledge. + +‘Let me get my breath!’ he said, unfastening the kerchief with which he +had tied the collar of his fur coat at the village. + +‘It’s all right here. You lie there,’ said Nikita. ‘I will lead him +along.’ And with Vasili Andreevich in the sledge he led the horse by the +bridle about ten paces down and then up a slight rise, and stopped. + +The place where Nikita had stopped was not completely in the hollow +where the snow sweeping down from the hillocks might have buried them +altogether, but still it was partly sheltered from the wind by the +side of the ravine. There were moments when the wind seemed to abate a +little, but that did not last long and as if to make up for that respite +the storm swept down with tenfold vigour and tore and whirled the more +fiercely. Such a gust struck them at the moment when Vasili Andreevich, +having recovered his breath, got out of the sledge and went up to +Nikita to consult him as to what they should do. They both bent down +involuntarily and waited till the violence of the squall should +have passed. Mukhorty too laid back his ears and shook his head +discontentedly. As soon as the violence of the blast had abated a +little, Nikita took off his mittens, stuck them into his belt, breathed +onto his hands, and began to undo the straps of the shaft-bow. + +‘What’s that you are doing there?’ asked Vasili Andreevich. + +‘Unharnessing. What else is there to do? I have no strength left,’ said +Nikita as though excusing himself. + +‘Can’t we drive somewhere?’ + +‘No, we can’t. We shall only kill the horse. Why, the poor beast is not +himself now,’ said Nikita, pointing to the horse, which was standing +submissively waiting for what might come, with his steep wet sides +heaving heavily. ‘We shall have to stay the night here,’ he said, as if +preparing to spend the night at an inn, and he proceeded to unfasten the +collar-straps. The buckles came undone. + +‘But shan’t we be frozen?’ remarked Vasili Andreevich. + +‘Well, if we are we can’t help it,’ said Nikita. + + + + +VI + + +Although Vasili Andreevich felt quite warm in his two fur coats, +especially after struggling in the snow-drift, a cold shiver ran down +his back on realizing that he must really spend the night where +they were. To calm himself he sat down in the sledge and got out his +cigarettes and matches. + +Nikita meanwhile unharnessed Mukhorty. He unstrapped the belly-band +and the back-band, took away the reins, loosened the collar-strap, and +removed the shaft-bow, talking to him all the time to encourage him. + +‘Now come out! come out!’ he said, leading him clear of the shafts. ‘Now +we’ll tie you up here and I’ll put down some straw and take off your +bridle. When you’ve had a bite you’ll feel more cheerful.’ + +But Mukhorty was restless and evidently not comforted by Nikita’s +remarks. He stepped now on one foot and now on another, and pressed +close against the sledge, turning his back to the wind and rubbing his +head on Nikita’s sleeve. Then, as if not to pain Nikita by refusing his +offer of the straw he put before him, he hurriedly snatched a wisp out +of the sledge, but immediately decided that it was now no time to think +of straw and threw it down, and the wind instantly scattered it, carried +it away, and covered it with snow. + +‘Now we will set up a signal,’ said Nikita, and turning the front of the +sledge to the wind he tied the shafts together with a strap and set them +up on end in front of the sledge. ‘There now, when the snow covers us +up, good folk will see the shafts and dig us out,’ he said, slapping his +mittens together and putting them on. ‘That’s what the old folk taught +us!’ + +Vasili Andreevich meanwhile had unfastened his coat, and holding its +skirts up for shelter, struck one sulphur match after another on the +steel box. But his hands trembled, and one match after another either +did not kindle or was blown out by the wind just as he was lifting it to +the cigarette. At last a match did burn up, and its flame lit up for +a moment the fur of his coat, his hand with the gold ring on the bent +forefinger, and the snow-sprinkled oat-straw that stuck out from under +the drugget. The cigarette lighted, he eagerly took a whiff or two, +inhaled the smoke, let it out through his moustache, and would have +inhaled again, but the wind tore off the burning tobacco and whirled it +away as it had done the straw. + +But even these few puffs had cheered him. + +‘If we must spend the night here, we must!’ he said with decision. ‘Wait +a bit, I’ll arrange a flag as well,’ he added, picking up the kerchief +which he had thrown down in the sledge after taking it from round his +collar, and drawing off his gloves and standing up on the front of +the sledge and stretching himself to reach the strap, he tied the +handkerchief to it with a tight knot. + +The kerchief immediately began to flutter wildly, now clinging round the +shaft, now suddenly streaming out, stretching and flapping. + +‘Just see what a fine flag!’ said Vasili Andreevich, admiring his +handiwork and letting himself down into the sledge. ‘We should be warmer +together, but there’s not room enough for two,’ he added. + +‘I’ll find a place,’ said Nikita. ‘But I must cover up the horse +first--he sweated so, poor thing. Let go!’ he added, drawing the drugget +from under Vasili Andreevich. + +Having got the drugget he folded it in two, and after taking off the +breechband and pad, covered Mukhorty with it. + +‘Anyhow it will be warmer, silly!’ he said, putting back the breechband +and the pad on the horse over the drugget. Then having finished that +business he returned to the sledge, and addressing Vasili Andreevich, +said: ‘You won’t need the sackcloth, will you? And let me have some +straw.’ + +And having taken these things from under Vasili Andreevich, Nikita went +behind the sledge, dug out a hole for himself in the snow, put straw +into it, wrapped his coat well round him, covered himself with the +sackcloth, and pulling his cap well down seated himself on the straw he +had spread, and leant against the wooden back of the sledge to shelter +himself from the wind and the snow. + +Vasili Andreevich shook his head disapprovingly at what Nikita was +doing, as in general he disapproved of the peasant’s stupidity and lack +of education, and he began to settle himself down for the night. + +He smoothed the remaining straw over the bottom of the sledge, putting +more of it under his side. Then he thrust his hands into his sleeves and +settled down, sheltering his head in the corner of the sledge from the +wind in front. + +He did not wish to sleep. He lay and thought: thought ever of the one +thing that constituted the sole aim, meaning, pleasure, and pride of his +life--of how much money he had made and might still make, of how much +other people he knew had made and possessed, and of how those others had +made and were making it, and how he, like them, might still make much +more. The purchase of the Goryachkin grove was a matter of immense +importance to him. By that one deal he hoped to make perhaps ten +thousand rubles. He began mentally to reckon the value of the wood he +had inspected in autumn, and on five acres of which he had counted all +the trees. + +‘The oaks will go for sledge-runners. The undergrowth will take care of +itself, and there’ll still be some thirty sazheens of fire-wood left on +each desyatin,’ said he to himself. ‘That means there will be at +least two hundred and twenty-five rubles’ worth left on each desyatin. +Fifty-six desyatiins means fifty-six hundreds, and fifty-six hundreds, +and fifty-six tens, and another fifty-six tens, and then fifty-six +fives....’ He saw that it came out to more than twelve thousand +rubles, but could not reckon it up exactly without a counting-frame. +‘But I won’t give ten thousand, anyhow. I’ll give about eight thousand +with a deduction on account of the glades. I’ll grease the surveyor’s +palm--give him a hundred rubles, or a hundred and fifty, and he’ll +reckon that there are some five desyatins of glade to be deducted. And +he’ll let it go for eight thousand. Three thousand cash down. That’ll +move him, no fear!’ he thought, and he pressed his pocket-book with his +forearm. + +‘God only knows how we missed the turning. The forest ought to be there, +and a watchman’s hut, and dogs barking. But the damned things don’t +bark when they’re wanted.’ He turned his collar down from his ear and +listened, but as before only the whistling of the wind could be heard, +the flapping and fluttering of the kerchief tied to the shafts, and the +pelting of the snow against the woodwork of the sledge. He again covered +up his ear. + +‘If I had known I would have stayed the night. Well, no matter, we’ll +get there to-morrow. It’s only one day lost. And the others won’t travel +in such weather.’ Then he remembered that on the 9th he had to receive +payment from the butcher for his oxen. ‘He meant to come himself, but +he won’t find me, and my wife won’t know how to receive the money. She +doesn’t know the right way of doing things,’ he thought, recalling +how at their party the day before she had not known how to treat the +police-officer who was their guest. ‘Of course she’s only a woman! Where +could she have seen anything? In my father’s time what was our house +like? Just a rich peasant’s house: just an oatmill and an inn--that was +the whole property. But what have I done in these fifteen years? A shop, +two taverns, a flour-mill, a grain-store, two farms leased out, and a +house with an iron-roofed barn,’ he thought proudly. ‘Not as it was in +Father’s time! Who is talked of in the whole district now? Brekhunov! +And why? Because I stick to business. I take trouble, not like others +who lie abed or waste their time on foolishness while I don’t sleep of +nights. Blizzard or no blizzard I start out. So business gets done. They +think money-making is a joke. No, take pains and rack your brains! You +get overtaken out of doors at night, like this, or keep awake night +after night till the thoughts whirling in your head make the pillow +turn,’ he meditated with pride. ‘They think people get on through luck. +After all, the Mironovs are now millionaires. And why? Take pains and +God gives. If only He grants me health!’ + +The thought that he might himself be a millionaire like Mironov, who +began with nothing, so excited Vasili Andreevich that he felt the need +of talking to somebody. But there was no one to talk to.... If only +he could have reached Goryachkin he would have talked to the landlord +and shown him a thing or two. + +‘Just see how it blows! It will snow us up so deep that we shan’t be +able to get out in the morning!’ he thought, listening to a gust of wind +that blew against the front of the sledge, bending it and lashing the +snow against it. He raised himself and looked round. All he could see +through the whirling darkness was Mukhorty’s dark head, his back covered +by the fluttering drugget, and his thick knotted tail; while all round, +in front and behind, was the same fluctuating whity darkness, sometimes +seeming to get a little lighter and sometimes growing denser still. + +‘A pity I listened to Nikita,’ he thought. ‘We ought to have driven on. +We should have come out somewhere, if only back to Grishkino and stayed +the night at Taras’s. As it is we must sit here all night. But what was +I thinking about? Yes, that God gives to those who take trouble, but not +to loafers, lie-abeds, or fools. I must have a smoke!’ + +He sat down again, got out his cigarette-case, and stretched himself +flat on his stomach, screening the matches with the skirt of his coat. +But the wind found its way in and put out match after match. At last +he got one to burn and lit a cigarette. He was very glad that he had +managed to do what he wanted, and though the wind smoked more of the +cigarette than he did, he still got two or three puffs and felt more +cheerful. He again leant back, wrapped himself up, started reflecting +and remembering, and suddenly and quite unexpectedly lost consciousness +and fell asleep. + +Suddenly something seemed to give him a push and awoke him. Whether +it was Mukhorty who had pulled some straw from under him, or whether +something within him had startled him, at all events it woke him, and +his heart began to beat faster and faster so that the sledge seemed to +tremble under him. He opened his eyes. Everything around him was just +as before. ‘It looks lighter,’ he thought. ‘I expect it won’t be long +before dawn.’ But he at once remembered that it was lighter because the +moon had risen. He sat up and looked first at the horse. Mukhorty still +stood with his back to the wind, shivering all over. One side of the +drugget, which was completely covered with snow, had been blown back, +the breeching had slipped down and the snow-covered head with its waving +forelock and mane were now more visible. Vasili Andreevich leant over +the back of the sledge and looked behind. Nikita still sat in the same +position in which he had settled himself. The sacking with which he was +covered, and his legs, were thickly covered with snow. + +‘If only that peasant doesn’t freeze to death! His clothes are so +wretched. I may be held responsible for him. What shiftless people they +are--such a want of education,’ thought Vasili Andreevich, and he felt +like taking the drugget off the horse and putting it over Nikita, but +it would be very cold to get out and move about and, moreover, the horse +might freeze to death. ‘Why did I bring him with me? It was all her +stupidity!’ he thought, recalling his unloved wife, and he rolled over +into his old place at the front part of the sledge. ‘My uncle once spent +a whole night like this,’ he reflected, ‘and was all right.’ But another +case came at once to his mind. ‘But when they dug Sebastian out he was +dead--stiff like a frozen carcass. If I’d only stopped the night in +Grishkino all this would not have happened!’ + +And wrapping his coat carefully round him so that none of the warmth of +the fur should be wasted but should warm him all over, neck, knees, and +feet, he shut his eyes and tried to sleep again. But try as he would he +could not get drowsy, on the contrary he felt wide awake and animated. +Again he began counting his gains and the debts due to him, again he +began bragging to himself and feeling pleased with himself and his +position, but all this was continually disturbed by a stealthily +approaching fear and by the unpleasant regret that he had not remained +in Grishkino. + +‘How different it would be to be lying warm on a bench!’ + +He turned over several times in his attempts to get into a more +comfortable position more sheltered from the wind, he wrapped up his +legs closer, shut his eyes, and lay still. But either his legs in their +strong felt boots began to ache from being bent in one position, or the +wind blew in somewhere, and after lying still for a short time he again +began to recall the disturbing fact that he might now have been lying +quietly in the warm hut at Grishkino. He again sat up, turned about, +muffled himself up, and settled down once more. + +Once he fancied that he heard a distant cock-crow. He felt glad, turned +down his coat-collar and listened with strained attention, but in spite +of all his efforts nothing could be heard but the wind whistling between +the shafts, the flapping of the kerchief, and the snow pelting against +the frame of the sledge. + +Nikita sat just as he had done all the time, not moving and not even +answering Vasili Andreevich who had addressed him a couple of times. +‘He doesn’t care a bit--he’s probably asleep!’ thought Vasili Andreevich +with vexation, looking behind the sledge at Nikita who was covered with +a thick layer of snow. + +Vasili Andreevich got up and lay down again some twenty times. It +seemed to him that the night would never end. ‘It must be getting near +morning,’ he thought, getting up and looking around. ‘Let’s have a look +at my watch. It will be cold to unbutton, but if I only know that it’s +getting near morning I shall at any rate feel more cheerful. We could +begin harnessing.’ + +In the depth of his heart Vasili Andreevich knew that it could not yet +be near morning, but he was growing more and more afraid, and wished +both to get to know and yet to deceive himself. He carefully undid the +fastening of his sheepskin, pushed in his hand, and felt about for +a long time before he got to his waistcoat. With great difficulty he +managed to draw out his silver watch with its enamelled flower design, +and tried to make out the time. He could not see anything without a +light. Again he went down on his knees and elbows as he had done when he +lighted a cigarette, got out his matches, and proceeded to strike one. +This time he went to work more carefully, and feeling with his fingers +for a match with the largest head and the greatest amount of phosphorus, +lit it at the first try. Bringing the face of the watch under the light +he could hardly believe his eyes.... It was only ten minutes past +twelve. Almost the whole night was still before him. + +‘Oh, how long the night is!’ he thought, feeling a cold shudder run down +his back, and having fastened his fur coats again and wrapped himself +up, he snuggled into a corner of the sledge intending to wait +patiently. Suddenly, above the monotonous roar of the wind, he clearly +distinguished another new and living sound. It steadily strengthened, +and having become quite clear diminished just as gradually. Beyond all +doubt it was a wolf, and he was so near that the movement of his jaws as +he changed his cry was brought down the wind. Vasili Andreevich turned +back the collar of his coat and listened attentively. Mukhorty too +strained to listen, moving his ears, and when the wolf had ceased its +howling he shifted from foot to foot and gave a warning snort. After +this Vasili Andreevich could not fall asleep again or even calm +himself. The more he tried to think of his accounts, his business, his +reputation, his worth and his wealth, the more and more was he mastered +by fear, and regrets that he had not stayed the night at Grishkino +dominated and mingled in all his thoughts. + +‘Devil take the forest! Things were all right without it, thank God. Ah, +if we had only put up for the night!’ he said to himself. ‘They say it’s +drunkards that freeze,’ he thought, ‘and I have had some drink.’ And +observing his sensations he noticed that he was beginning to shiver, +without knowing whether it was from cold or from fear. He tried to wrap +himself up and lie down as before, but could no longer do so. He could +not stay in one position. He wanted to get up, to do something to master +the gathering fear that was rising in him and against which he felt +himself powerless. He again got out his cigarettes and matches, but only +three matches were left and they were bad ones. The phosphorus rubbed +off them all without lighting. + +‘The devil take you! Damned thing! Curse you!’ he muttered, not knowing +whom or what he was cursing, and he flung away the crushed cigarette. +He was about to throw away the matchbox too, but checked the movement of +his hand and put the box in his pocket instead. He was seized with such +unrest that he could no longer remain in one spot. He climbed out of the +sledge and standing with his back to the wind began to shift his belt +again, fastening it lower down in the waist and tightening it. + +‘What’s the use of lying and waiting for death? Better mount the horse +and get away!’ The thought suddenly occurred to him. ‘The horse will +move when he has someone on his back. As for him,’ he thought of +Nikita--‘it’s all the same to him whether he lives or dies. What is his +life worth? He won’t grudge his life, but I have something to live for, +thank God.’ + +He untied the horse, threw the reins over his neck and tried to mount, +but his coats and boots were so heavy that he failed. Then he clambered +up in the sledge and tried to mount from there, but the sledge tilted +under his weight, and he failed again. At last he drew Mukhorty nearer +to the sledge, cautiously balanced on one side of it, and managed to +lie on his stomach across the horse’s back. After lying like that for a +while he shifted forward once and again, threw a leg over, and finally +seated himself, supporting his feet on the loose breeching-straps. The +shaking of the sledge awoke Nikita. He raised himself, and it seemed to +Vasili Andreevich that he said something. + +‘Listen to such fools as you! Am I to die like this for nothing?’ +exclaimed Vasili Andreevich. And tucking the loose skirts of his fur +coat in under his knees, he turned the horse and rode away from +the sledge in the direction in which he thought the forest and the +forester’s hut must be. + + + + +VII + +From the time he had covered himself with the sackcloth and seated +himself behind the sledge, Nikita had not stirred. Like all those who +live in touch with nature and have known want, he was patient and could +wait for hours, even days, without growing restless or irritable. He +heard his master call him, but did not answer because he did not want to +move or talk. Though he still felt some warmth from the tea he had drunk +and from his energetic struggle when clambering about in the snowdrift, +he knew that this warmth would not last long and that he had no strength +left to warm himself again by moving about, for he felt as tired as a +horse when it stops and refuses to go further in spite of the whip, and +its master sees that it must be fed before it can work again. The foot +in the boot with a hole in it had already grown numb, and he could no +longer feel his big toe. Besides that, his whole body began to feel +colder and colder. + +The thought that he might, and very probably would, die that night +occurred to him, but did not seem particularly unpleasant or dreadful. +It did not seem particularly unpleasant, because his whole life had been +not a continual holiday, but on the contrary an unceasing round of +toil of which he was beginning to feel weary. And it did not seem +particularly dreadful, because besides the masters he had served here, +like Vasili Andreevich, he always felt himself dependent on the Chief +Master, who had sent him into this life, and he knew that when dying he +would still be in that Master’s power and would not be ill-used by Him. +‘It seems a pity to give up what one is used to and accustomed to. But +there’s nothing to be done, I shall get used to the new things.’ + +‘Sins?’ he thought, and remembered his drunkenness, the money that had +gone on drink, how he had offended his wife, his cursing, his neglect of +church and of the fasts, and all the things the priest blamed him for +at confession. ‘Of course they are sins. But then, did I take them on of +myself? That’s evidently how God made me. Well, and the sins? Where am I +to escape to?’ + +So at first he thought of what might happen to him that night, and +then did not return to such thoughts but gave himself up to whatever +recollections came into his head of themselves. Now he thought of +Martha’s arrival, of the drunkenness among the workers and his own +renunciation of drink, then of their present journey and of Taras’s +house and the talk about the breaking-up of the family, then of his own +lad, and of Mukhorty now sheltered under the drugget, and then of his +master who made the sledge creak as he tossed about in it. ‘I expect +you’re sorry yourself that you started out, dear man,’ he thought. ‘It +would seem hard to leave a life such as his! It’s not like the likes of +us.’ + +Then all these recollections began to grow confused and got mixed in his +head, and he fell asleep. + +But when Vasili Andreevich, getting on the horse, jerked the sledge, +against the back of which Nikita was leaning, and it shifted away and +hit him in the back with one of its runners, he awoke and had to change +his position whether he liked it or not. Straightening his legs with +difficulty and shaking the snow off them he got up, and an agonizing +cold immediately penetrated his whole body. On making out what was +happening he called to Vasili Andreevich to leave him the drugget which +the horse no longer needed, so that he might wrap himself in it. + +But Vasili Andreevich did not stop, but disappeared amid the powdery +snow. + +Left alone Nikita considered for a moment what he should do. He felt +that he had not the strength to go off in search of a house. It was no +longer possible to sit down in his old place--it was by now all filled +with snow. He felt that he could not get warmer in the sledge either, +for there was nothing to cover himself with, and his coat and sheepskin +no longer warmed him at all. He felt as cold as though he had nothing on +but a shirt. He became frightened. ‘Lord, heavenly Father!’ he muttered, +and was comforted by the consciousness that he was not alone but that +there was One who heard him and would not abandon him. He gave a deep +sigh, and keeping the sackcloth over his head he got inside the sledge +and lay down in the place where his master had been. + +But he could not get warm in the sledge either. At first he shivered all +over, then the shivering ceased and little by little he began to lose +consciousness. He did not know whether he was dying or falling asleep, +but felt equally prepared for the one as for the other. + + + + +VIII + +Meanwhile Vasili Andreevich, with his feet and the ends of the reins, +urged the horse on in the direction in which for some reason he expected +the forest and forester’s hut to be. The snow covered his eyes and the +wind seemed intent on stopping him, but bending forward and constantly +lapping his coat over and pushing it between himself and the cold +harness pad which prevented him from sitting properly, he kept urging +the horse on. Mukhorty ambled on obediently though with difficulty, in +the direction in which he was driven. + +Vasili Andreevich rode for about five minutes straight ahead, as he +thought, seeing nothing but the horse’s head and the white waste, and +hearing only the whistle of the wind about the horse’s ears and his coat +collar. + +Suddenly a dark patch showed up in front of him. His heart beat with +joy, and he rode towards the object, already seeing in imagination the +walls of village houses. But the dark patch was not stationary, it +kept moving; and it was not a village but some tall stalks of wormwood +sticking up through the snow on the boundary between two fields, and +desperately tossing about under the pressure of the wind which beat +it all to one side and whistled through it. The sight of that wormwood +tormented by the pitiless wind made Vasili Andreevich shudder, he knew +not why, and he hurriedly began urging the horse on, not noticing that +when riding up to the wormwood he had quite changed his direction and +was now heading the opposite way, though still imagining that he was +riding towards where the hut should be. But the horse kept making +towards the right, and Vasili Andreevich kept guiding it to the left. + +Again something dark appeared in front of him. Again he rejoiced, +convinced that now it was certainly a village. But once more it was the +same boundary line overgrown with wormwood, once more the same wormwood +desperately tossed by the wind and carrying unreasoning terror to his +heart. But its being the same wormwood was not all, for beside it +there was a horse’s track partly snowed over. Vasili Andreevich stopped, +stooped down and looked carefully. It was a horse-track only partially +covered with snow, and could be none but his own horse’s hoofprints. He +had evidently gone round in a small circle. ‘I shall perish like that!’ +he thought, and not to give way to his terror he urged on the horse +still more, peering into the snowy darkness in which he saw only +flitting and fitful points of light. Once he thought he heard the +barking of dogs or the howling of wolves, but the sounds were so faint +and indistinct that he did not know whether he heard them or merely +imagined them, and he stopped and began to listen intently. + +Suddenly some terrible, deafening cry resounded near his ears, and +everything shivered and shook under him. He seized Mukhorty’s neck, +but that too was shaking all over and the terrible cry grew still more +frightful. For some seconds Vasili Andreevich could not collect himself +or understand what was happening. It was only that Mukhorty, whether +to encourage himself or to call for help, had neighed loudly and +resonantly. ‘Ugh, you wretch! How you frightened me, damn you!’ thought +Vasili Andreevich. But even when he understood the cause of his terror +he could not shake it off. + +‘I must calm myself and think things over,’ he said to himself, but yet +he could not stop, and continued to urge the horse on, without noticing +that he was now going with the wind instead of against it. His body, +especially between his legs where it touched the pad of the harness and +was not covered by his overcoats, was getting painfully cold, especially +when the horse walked slowly. His legs and arms trembled and his +breathing came fast. He saw himself perishing amid this dreadful snowy +waste, and could see no means of escape. + +Suddenly the horse under him tumbled into something and, sinking into +a snow-drift, began to plunge and fell on his side. Vasili Andreevich +jumped off, and in so doing dragged to one side the breechband on which +his foot was resting, and twisted round the pad to which he held as he +dismounted. As soon as he had jumped off, the horse struggled to his +feet, plunged forward, gave one leap and another, neighed again, and +dragging the drugget and the breechband after him, disappeared, leaving +Vasili Andreevich alone on the snow-drift. + +The latter pressed on after the horse, but the snow lay so deep and +his coats were so heavy that, sinking above his knees at each step, he +stopped breathless after taking not more than twenty steps. ‘The copse, +the oxen, the lease-hold, the shop, the tavern, the house with the +iron-roofed barn, and my heir,’ thought he. ‘How can I leave all that? +What does this mean? It cannot be!’ These thoughts flashed through his +mind. Then he thought of the wormwood tossed by the wind, which he had +twice ridden past, and he was seized with such terror that he did not +believe in the reality of what was happening to him. ‘Can this be a +dream?’ he thought, and tried to wake up but could not. It was real snow +that lashed his face and covered him and chilled his right hand from +which he had lost the glove, and this was a real desert in which he was +now left alone like that wormwood, awaiting an inevitable, speedy, and +meaningless death. + +‘Queen of Heaven! Holy Father Nicholas, teacher of temperance!’ he +thought, recalling the service of the day before and the holy icon with +its black face and gilt frame, and the tapers which he sold to be set +before that icon and which were almost immediately brought back to him +scarcely burnt at all, and which he put away in the store-chest. He +began to pray to that same Nicholas the Wonder-Worker to save him, +promising him a thanksgiving service and some candles. But he clearly +and indubitably realized that the icon, its frame, the candles, +the priest, and the thanksgiving service, though very important and +necessary in church, could do nothing for him here, and that there was +and could be no connexion between those candles and services and his +present disastrous plight. ‘I must not despair,’ he thought. ‘I must +follow the horse’s track before it is snowed under. He will lead me out, +or I may even catch him. Only I must not hurry, or I shall stick fast +and be more lost than ever.’ + +But in spite of his resolution to go quietly, he rushed forward and +even ran, continually falling, getting up and falling again. The horse’s +track was already hardly visible in places where the snow did not lie +deep. ‘I am lost!’ thought Vasili Andreevich. ‘I shall lose the track +and not catch the horse.’ But at that moment he saw something black. It +was Mukhorty, and not only Mukhorty, but the sledge with the shafts +and the kerchief. Mukhorty, with the sacking and the breechband twisted +round to one side, was standing not in his former place but nearer to +the shafts, shaking his head which the reins he was stepping on drew +downwards. It turned out that Vasili Andreevich had sunk in the same +ravine Nikita had previously fallen into, and that Mukhorty had been +bringing him back to the sledge and he had got off his back no more than +fifty paces from where the sledge was. + + + + +IX + +Having stumbled back to the sledge Vasili Andreevich caught hold of it +and for a long time stood motionless, trying to calm himself and recover +his breath. Nikita was not in his former place, but something, already +covered with snow, was lying in the sledge and Vasili Andreevich +concluded that this was Nikita. His terror had now quite left him, and +if he felt any fear it was lest the dreadful terror should return that +he had experienced when on the horse and especially when he was left +alone in the snow-drift. At any cost he had to avoid that terror, and +to keep it away he must do something--occupy himself with something. And +the first thing he did was to turn his back to the wind and open his fur +coat. Then, as soon as he recovered his breath a little, he shook the +snow out of his boots and out of his left-hand glove (the right-hand +glove was hopelessly lost and by this time probably lying somewhere +under a dozen inches of snow); then as was his custom when going out of +his shop to buy grain from the peasants, he pulled his girdle low down +and tightened it and prepared for action. The first thing that occurred +to him was to free Mukhorty’s leg from the rein. Having done that, and +tethered him to the iron cramp at the front of the sledge where he +had been before, he was going round the horse’s quarters to put the +breechband and pad straight and cover him with the cloth, but at that +moment he noticed that something was moving in the sledge and Nikita’s +head rose up out of the snow that covered it. Nikita, who was half +frozen, rose with great difficulty and sat up, moving his hand before +his nose in a strange manner just as if he were driving away flies. He +waved his hand and said something, and seemed to Vasili Andreevich to be +calling him. Vasili Andreevich left the cloth unadjusted and went up to +the sledge. + +‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘What are you saying?’ + +‘I’m dy... ing, that’s what,’ said Nikita brokenly and with +difficulty. ‘Give what is owing to me to my lad, or to my wife, no +matter.’ + +‘Why, are you really frozen?’ asked Vasili Andreevich. + +‘I feel it’s my death. Forgive me for Christ’s sake...’ said Nikita +in a tearful voice, continuing to wave his hand before his face as if +driving away flies. + +Vasili Andreevich stood silent and motionless for half a minute. Then +suddenly, with the same resolution with which he used to strike hands +when making a good purchase, he took a step back and turning up his +sleeves began raking the snow off Nikita and out of the sledge. Having +done this he hurriedly undid his girdle, opened out his fur coat, and +having pushed Nikita down, lay down on top of him, covering him not +only with his fur coat but with the whole of his body, which glowed +with warmth. After pushing the skirts of his coat between Nikita and +the sides of the sledge, and holding down its hem with his knees, Vasili +Andreevich lay like that face down, with his head pressed against the +front of the sledge. Here he no longer heard the horse’s movements or +the whistling of the wind, but only Nikita’s breathing. At first and for +a long time Nikita lay motionless, then he sighed deeply and moved. + +‘There, and you say you are dying! Lie still and get warm, that’s our +way...’ began Vasili Andreevich. + +But to his great surprise he could say no more, for tears came to his +eyes and his lower jaw began to quiver rapidly. He stopped speaking +and only gulped down the risings in his throat. ‘Seems I was badly +frightened and have gone quite weak,’ he thought. But this weakness was +not only unpleasant, but gave him a peculiar joy such as he had never +felt before. + +‘That’s our way!’ he said to himself, experiencing a strange and solemn +tenderness. He lay like that for a long time, wiping his eyes on the fur +of his coat and tucking under his knee the right skirt, which the wind +kept turning up. + +But he longed so passionately to tell somebody of his joyful condition +that he said: ‘Nikita!’ + +‘It’s comfortable, warm!’ came a voice from beneath. + +‘There, you see, friend, I was going to perish. And you would have been +frozen, and I should have...’ + +But again his jaws began to quiver and his eyes to fill with tears, and +he could say no more. + +‘Well, never mind,’ he thought. ‘I know about myself what I know.’ + +He remained silent and lay like that for a long time. + +Nikita kept him warm from below and his fur coats from above. Only his +hands, with which he kept his coat-skirts down round Nikita’s sides, and +his legs which the wind kept uncovering, began to freeze, especially his +right hand which had no glove. But he did not think of his legs or of +his hands but only of how to warm the peasant who was lying under him. +He looked out several times at Mukhorty and could see that his back was +uncovered and the drugget and breeching lying on the snow, and that he +ought to get up and cover him, but he could not bring himself to leave +Nikita and disturb even for a moment the joyous condition he was in. He +no longer felt any kind of terror. + +‘No fear, we shan’t lose him this time!’ he said to himself, referring +to his getting the peasant warm with the same boastfulness with which he +spoke of his buying and selling. + +Vasili Andreevich lay in that way for one hour, another, and a third, +but he was unconscious of the passage of time. At first impressions +of the snow-storm, the sledge-shafts, and the horse with the shaft-bow +shaking before his eyes, kept passing through his mind, then he +remembered Nikita lying under him, then recollections of the festival, +his wife, the police-officer, and the box of candles, began to mingle +with these; then again Nikita, this time lying under that box, then the +peasants, customers and traders, and the white walls of his house with +its iron roof with Nikita lying underneath, presented themselves to +his imagination. Afterwards all these impressions blended into one +nothingness. As the colours of the rainbow unite into one white light, +so all these different impressions mingled into one, and he fell asleep. + +For a long time he slept without dreaming, but just before dawn the +visions recommenced. It seemed to him that he was standing by the box of +tapers and that Tikhon’s wife was asking for a five kopek taper for the +Church fete. He wished to take one out and give it to her, but his hands +would not lift, being held tight in his pockets. He wanted to walk round +the box but his feet would not move and his new clean goloshes had grown +to the stone floor, and he could neither lift them nor get his feet out +of the goloshes. Then the taper-box was no longer a box but a bed, and +suddenly Vasili Andreevich saw himself lying in his bed at home. He was +lying in his bed and could not get up. Yet it was necessary for him to +get up because Ivan Matveich, the police-officer, would soon call for +him and he had to go with him--either to bargain for the forest or to +put Mukhorty’s breeching straight. + +He asked his wife: ‘Nikolaevna, hasn’t he come yet?’ ‘No, he hasn’t,’ +she replied. He heard someone drive up to the front steps. ‘It must be +him.’ ‘No, he’s gone past.’ ‘Nikolaevna! I say, Nikolaevna, isn’t he +here yet?’ ‘No.’ He was still lying on his bed and could not get up, but +was always waiting. And this waiting was uncanny and yet joyful. Then +suddenly his joy was completed. He whom he was expecting came; not Ivan +Matveich the police-officer, but someone else--yet it was he whom he had +been waiting for. He came and called him; and it was he who had called +him and told him to lie down on Nikita. And Vasili Andreevich was glad +that that one had come for him. + +‘I’m coming!’ he cried joyfully, and that cry awoke him, but woke him up +not at all the same person he had been when he fell asleep. He tried to +get up but could not, tried to move his arm and could not, to move his +leg and also could not, to turn his head and could not. He was surprised +but not at all disturbed by this. He understood that this was death, and +was not at all disturbed by that either. + +He remembered that Nikita was lying under him and that he had got warm +and was alive, and it seemed to him that he was Nikita and Nikita was +he, and that his life was not in himself but in Nikita. He strained his +ears and heard Nikita breathing and even slightly snoring. ‘Nikita is +alive, so I too am alive!’ he said to himself triumphantly. + +And he remembered his money, his shop, his house, the buying and +selling, and Mironov’s millions, and it was hard for him to understand +why that man, called Vasili Brekhunov, had troubled himself with all +those things with which he had been troubled. + +‘Well, it was because he did not know what the real thing was,’ he +thought, concerning that Vasili Brekhunov. ‘He did not know, but now I +know and know for sure. Now I know!’ And again he heard the voice of +the one who had called him before. ‘I’m coming! Coming!’ he responded +gladly, and his whole being was filled with joyful emotion. He felt +himself free and that nothing could hold him back any longer. + +After that Vasili Andreevich neither saw, heard, nor felt anything more +in this world. + +All around the snow still eddied. The same whirlwinds of snow circled +about, covering the dead Vasili Andreevich’s fur coat, the shivering +Mukhorty, the sledge, now scarcely to be seen, and Nikita lying at the +bottom of it, kept warm beneath his dead master. + + + + +X + +Nikita awoke before daybreak. He was aroused by the cold that had begun +to creep down his back. He had dreamt that he was coming from the mill +with a load of his master’s flour and when crossing the stream had +missed the bridge and let the cart get stuck. And he saw that he had +crawled under the cart and was trying to lift it by arching his back. +But strange to say the cart did not move, it stuck to his back and he +could neither lift it nor get out from under it. It was crushing the +whole of his loins. And how cold it felt! Evidently he must crawl out. +‘Have done!’ he exclaimed to whoever was pressing the cart down on him. +‘Take out the sacks!’ But the cart pressed down colder and colder, +and then he heard a strange knocking, awoke completely, and remembered +everything. The cold cart was his dead and frozen master lying upon him. +And the knock was produced by Mukhorty, who had twice struck the sledge +with his hoof. + +‘Andreevich! Eh, Andreevich!’ Nikita called cautiously, beginning to +realize the truth, and straightening his back. But Vasili Andreevich did +not answer and his stomach and legs were stiff and cold and heavy like +iron weights. + +‘He must have died! May the Kingdom of Heaven be his!’ thought Nikita. + +He turned his head, dug with his hand through the snow about him and +opened his eyes. It was daylight; the wind was whistling as before +between the shafts, and the snow was falling in the same way, except +that it was no longer driving against the frame of the sledge but +silently covered both sledge and horse deeper and deeper, and neither +the horse’s movements nor his breathing were any longer to be heard. + +‘He must have frozen too,’ thought Nikita of Mukhorty, and indeed those +hoof knocks against the sledge, which had awakened Nikita, were the last +efforts the already numbed Mukhorty had made to keep on his feet before +dying. + +‘O Lord God, it seems Thou art calling me too!’ said Nikita. ‘Thy Holy +Will be done. But it’s uncanny.... Still, a man can’t die twice and +must die once. If only it would come soon!’ + +And he again drew in his head, closed his eyes, and became unconscious, +fully convinced that now he was certainly and finally dying. + + +It was not till noon that day that peasants dug Vasili Andreevich and +Nikita out of the snow with their shovels, not more than seventy yards +from the road and less than half a mile from the village. + +The snow had hidden the sledge, but the shafts and the kerchief tied to +them were still visible. Mukhorty, buried up to his belly in snow, with +the breeching and drugget hanging down, stood all white, his dead head +pressed against his frozen throat: icicles hung from his nostrils, his +eyes were covered with hoar-frost as though filled with tears, and he +had grown so thin in that one night that he was nothing but skin and +bone. + +Vasili Andreevich was stiff as a frozen carcass, and when they rolled +him off Nikita his legs remained apart and his arms stretched out as +they had been. His bulging hawk eyes were frozen, and his open mouth +under his clipped moustache was full of snow. But Nikita though chilled +through was still alive. When he had been brought to, he felt sure +that he was already dead and that what was taking place with him was +no longer happening in this world but in the next. When he heard the +peasants shouting as they dug him out and rolled the frozen body of +Vasili Andreevich from off him, he was at first surprised that in the +other world peasants should be shouting in the same old way and had the +same kind of body, and then when he realized that he was still in this +world he was sorry rather than glad, especially when he found that the +toes on both his feet were frozen. + +Nikita lay in hospital for two months. They cut off three of his toes, +but the others recovered so that he was still able to work and went on +living for another twenty years, first as a farm-labourer, then in his +old age as a watchman. He died at home as he had wished, only this year, +under the icons with a lighted taper in his hands. Before he died he +asked his wife’s forgiveness and forgave her for the cooper. He also +took leave of his son and grandchildren, and died sincerely glad that +he was relieving his son and daughter-in-law of the burden of having to +feed him, and that he was now really passing from this life of which +he was weary into that other life which every year and every hour grew +clearer and more desirable to him. Whether he is better or worse off +there where he awoke after his death, whether he was disappointed or +found there what he expected, we shall all soon learn. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Master and Man, by Leo Tolstoy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASTER AND MAN *** + +***** This file should be named 986-0.txt or 986-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/8/986/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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