II.  THE GUIDE.

My reflections during the journey were not very agreeable.  According to the value of money at that time my loss was of some importance.  I could not but admit to myself that my conduct at the inn at Simbirsk had been very silly, and I felt guilty toward Saveliitch.  The old man was seated on the front of the vehicle in dull silence; from time to time turning his head and coughing a cough of ill humor.  I had firmly resolved to make friends with him, but I did not know which way to begin.  At last I said to him, “Come, come Saveliitch, let us put an end to this; I know I was wrong; I was a fool yesterday, and offended you without cause, but I promise to listen to you in future.  Come, do not be angry, let us make friends!”

“Ah!  My dear Peter,” said he with a sigh, “I am angry with myself.  It’s I who was wrong in every thing.  How could I have left you alone at the inn?  How could it have been avoided?  The devil had a hand in it!  I wanted to go and see the deacon’s wife, who is my god-mother, and as the proverb says:  ’I left the house and fell into the prison.’”

What a misfortune! what a misfortune!  How can I appear before the eyes of my masters?  What will they say, when they shall hear that their child is a drunkard and a gambler.  To console dear old Saveliitch, I gave him my word, that for the future I would not dispose of single kopeck without his consent.  Little by little he became calm, which did not, however, prevent him from grumbling out, now and then shaking his head:  “A hundred roubles!  It is easy to talk!”

I drew near the place of my destination.  Around me extended a desert, sad and wild, broken be little hills and deep ravines, all covered with snow.  The sun was setting.

My kibitka followed the narrow road, or rather trace, left by peasants’ sledges.  Suddenly my coachman, looking at a certain point and addressing me, “My lord,” said he, taking off his cap, “do you not command us to retrace our steps?”

“What for?”

“The weather is uncertain.  There is some wind ahead; do you see it drive the snow on the surface?”

“What matter?”

“And do you not see what is over yonder?” pointing with his whip to the east.

“I see nothing more than the white steppes and the clear sky.”

“There! there! that little cloud!”

I saw indeed upon the horizon a little white cloud that I had at first taken for a distant hill.  My coachman explained to me that this little cloud foretold a chasse-neige—­a snowdrift.  I had heard of the drifting snows of this region, and I know that at times, storms swallowed up whole caravans.  Saveliitch agreed with the coachman, and advised our return.

But to me the wind did not seem very strong.  I hoped to arrive in time for the next relay of horses.  I gave orders, therefore, to redouble our speed.  The coachman put his horses to the gallop, and kept his eyes to the east.