The stable was at the very end of the courtyard; one
wall faced the open country. Tchertop-hanov could
not at once fit the key into the lock—his
hands were shaking—and he did not immediately
turn the key.... He stood motionless, holding
his breath; if only something would stir inside!
‘Malek! Malek!’ he cried, in a low
voice: the silence of death! Tchertop-hanov
unconsciously jogged the key; the door creaked and
opened.... So, it was not locked. He stepped
over the threshold, and again called his horse; this
time by his full name, Malek-Adel! But no response
came from his faithful companion; only a mouse rustled
in the straw. Then Tchertop-hanov rushed into
one of the three horse-boxes in the stable in which
Malek-Adel was put. He went straight to the horse-box,
though it was pitch-dark around.... Empty!
Tchertop-hanov’s head went round; it seemed
as though a bell was booming in his brain. He
tried to say something, but only brought out a sort
of hiss; and fumbling with his hands above, below,
on all sides, breathless, with shaking knees, he made
his way from one horse-box to another... to a third,
full almost to the top with hay; stumbled against one
wall, and then the other; fell down, rolled over on
his head, got up, and suddenly ran headlong through
the half-open door into the courtyard....
‘Stolen! Perfishka! Perfishka!
Stolen!’ he yelled at the top of his voice.
The groom Perfishka flew head-over-heels out of the
loft where he slept, with only his shirt on....
Like drunk men they ran against one another, the master
and his solitary servant, in the middle of the courtyard;
like madmen they turned round each other. The
master could not explain what was the matter; nor could
the servant make out what was wanted of him. ‘Woe!
woe!’ wailed Tchertop-hanov. ‘Woe!
woe!’ the groom repeated after him. ’A
lantern! here! light a lantern! Light! light!’
broke at last from Tchertop-hanov’s fainting
lips. Perfishka rushed into the house.
But to light the lantern, to get fire, was not easy;
lucifer matches were regarded as a rarity in those
days in Russia; the last embers had long ago gone
out in the kitchen; flint and steel were not quickly
found, and they did not work well. Gnashing his
teeth, Tchertop-hanov snatched them out of the hands
of the flustered Perfishka, and began striking a light
himself; the sparks fell in abundance, in still greater
abundance fell curses, and even groans; but the tinder
either did not catch or went out again, in spite of
the united efforts of four swollen cheeks and lips
to blow it into a flame! At last, in five minutes,
not sooner, a bit of tallow candle was alight at the
bottom of a battered lantern; and Tchertop-hanov,
accompanied by Perfishka, dashed into the stable,
lifted the lantern above his head, looked round....
All empty!
He bounded out into the courtyard, ran up and down
it in all directions—no horse anywhere!
The hurdle-fence, enclosing Panteley Eremyitch’s
yard, had long been dilapidated, and in many places
was bent and lying on the ground.... Beside the
stable, it had been completely levelled for a good
yard’s width. Perfishka pointed this spot
out to Tchertop-hanov.
Copyrights
A Sportsman's Sketches, Volume 2 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
