himself, without the Jew Leyba, who, through weakness
of character, had not persevered, but had deserted
him; how, on the fifth day, when he was on the point
of leaving, he walked for the last time along the
rows of carts, and all at once he saw between three
other horses fastened to the railings—he
saw Malek-Adel! How he knew him at once, and
how Malek-Adel knew him too, and began neighing, and
dragging at his tether, and scraping the earth with
his hoof.
‘And he was not with the Cossack,’ Tchertop-hanov
went on, still not turning his head, and in the same
bass voice, ’but with a gypsy horse-dealer;
I, of course, at once took hold of my horse and tried
to get him away by force, but the brute of a gypsy
started yelling as if he’d been scalded, all
over the market, and began swearing he’d bought
the horse off another gypsy—and wanted to
bring witnesses to prove it.... I spat, and paid
him the money: damn the fellow! All I cared
for was that I had found my favourite, and had got
back my peace of mind. Moreover, in the Karatchevsky
district, I took a man for the Cossack—I
took the Jew Leyba’s word for it that he was
my thief—and smashed his face for him;
but the Cossack turned out to be a priest’s son,
and got damages out of me—a hundred and
twenty roubles. Well, money’s a thing one
may get again, but the great thing is, I’ve Malek-Adel
back again! I’m happy now—I’m
going to enjoy myself in peace. And I’ve
one instruction to give you, Perfishka: if ever
you, which God forbid, catch sight of the Cossack
in this neighbourhood, run the very minute without
saying a word, and bring me my gun, and I shall know
what to do!’
This was what Panteley Eremyitch said to Perfishka:
this was how his tongue spoke; but at heart he was
not so completely at peace as he declared.
Alas! in his heart of hearts he was not perfectly
convinced that the horse he had brought back was really
Malek-Adel!
X
Troubled times followed for Panteley Eremyitch.
Peace was just the last thing he enjoyed. He
had some happy days, it is true; the doubt stirring
within him would seem to him all nonsense; he would
drive away the ridiculous idea, like a persistent
fly, and even laugh at himself; but he had bad days
too: the importunate thought began again stealthily
gnawing and tearing at his heart, like a mouse under
the floor, and he existed in secret torture.
On the memorable day when he found Malek-Adel, Tchertop-hanov
had felt nothing but rapturous bliss... but the next
morning, when, in a low-pitched shed of the inn, he
began saddling his recovered joy, beside whom he had
spent the whole night, he felt for the first time
a certain secret pang.... He only shook his head,
but the seed was sown. During the homeward journey
(it lasted a whole week) doubts seldom arose in him;
they grew stronger and more distinct directly he was
back at Bezsonovo, directly he was home again in the
Copyrights
A Sportsman's Sketches, Volume 2 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
