Master and Man
by Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy
In the translation by Louise and Aylmer Maude
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
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-stand 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 hundredrubles 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 pocketbook 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,
"nat 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 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 serv 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
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 tasseled
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
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
"If you don't want 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 bellyband on Mukhorty and, carrying a light, painted
shaftbow 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 sheepskin 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
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
"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 pickets, and seizing the
cold leather reins.
"Only a moment, Father, Vasili Andreevich!" replied Nikita, and
running quickly with his in- turned toes in his felt boots with their
soles patched with felt, he hurried across the yard and into the
"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 around 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
"Won't you be cold, Nikita?" said the mistress as he came up to the
"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.
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 whirl of snow over the fields and the line where
sky and earth met could not been 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
"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
"It goes without saying that he's a good horse," replied Nikita.
The 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,
"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
"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
"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 a 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 dosed.
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 it is?" asked Vasili Andreevich when Nikita came back to
"There is no road this side. I must go to the other side and try
there," said Nikita.
"There is 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 under the
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
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
"Why, this must be the Goryachkin forest!" said Vasili Andreevich,
pointing to something dark that appeared amid the snow in front of
"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 hear 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
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
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 traveled 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 Andreevich he immediately took hold of the shaft, went along it
hand over hand till he reached the sledge, and placed himself on the
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 are going to Goryachkin."
"And look where you've got to! You should have gone through
"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 know 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
"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 how 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 traveled 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-travelers. Mukhorty over took
them, and struck his hooves against the back of the sledge in front of
"Pass on ... hey there ... get in front!" cried voices from the
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 ...!" 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
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.
"Why there are no way-marks to be seen. We must have got off the
"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
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
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's 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
"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
"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 today.
"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.
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
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
to 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 beg 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, signed, 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
"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
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's 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 pleasnter," said
the old man, confirming what his wife has 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
"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
"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
"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 Petruskha 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've 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
"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
"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 travelers.
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.
Petruskha 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
travelers 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 traveling 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 into 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 mis the sky conceal!" shouted Petrushka as he
"There's a poet for you!" muttered Vasili Andreevich, pulling at
"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
traveled 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. Mut 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. The passed the bush and drove
on for another hundred yards but there was no fourth way-mark nor any
"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 thee was still no
"There now, we must be astray again," said Vasili Andreevich,
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 ship, 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
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
"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,
"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.
"Id 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
"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 hold 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
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
"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
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
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
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.
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 sad 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
"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-strap 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 kerchief 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 flat!" said Vasili Andreevich, admiring his
handiwork and letting himself down into the sledge. "We should be
warmer together, but there's not enough room 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
drugged from under Vasili Andreevich.
Having got the drugged 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 if 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 firewood
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 desyatins means fifty-six hundred, 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 but 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 Moronovs 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 of 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 white
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 enameled
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
"Oh, how long the night is!" he thought, feeling a cold shudder run
down his back, and having fastened his fur coat 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
"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.
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 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! I's not like the likes of
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
But Vasili Andreevich did not stop, but disappeared amid the
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 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.
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
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, thought 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 move, 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 gad 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, 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 snowdrift.
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 leasehold, 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 which were almost immediately brought back to him
scarcely burnt at all, and which he put away in the storechest. 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
pries, 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 connection 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 the 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
was bringing him back to the sledge and he had got off his back no more
than fifty paces from where the sledge was.
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 snowdrift. 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
"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 stop 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, law 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
"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 rising in his throat. "Seems I was
badly frightened and have gone quite weak," he thought. But this
weakness was not only not 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 knew 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 around 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. After wards 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
galoshes had grown to the stone floor, and he could neither lift them
nor get his feet out of the galoshes. 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
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 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.
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 had died! May the Kingdom of Heaven be his!" thought
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 are 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
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.