Master and Man | Page 7

cooper in his loud, clear
voice.
'That's their business, Vasili Andreevich. I don't pry into their affairs.
As long as she doesn't ill-treat our boy--God be with them.'
'That's so,' said Vasili Andreevich. 'Well, and will you be buying a
horse in spring?' he went on, changing the subject.
'Yes, I can't avoid it,' answered Nikita, turning down his collar and
leaning back towards his master.
The conversation now became interesting to him and he did not wish to
lose a word.
'The lad's growing up. He must begin to plough for himself, but till now
we've always had to hire someone,' he said.
'Well, why not have the lean-cruppered one. I won't charge much for it,'
shouted Vasili Andreevich, feeling animated, and consequently starting
on his favourite occupation--that of horse-dealing--which absorbed all
his mental powers.
'Or you might let me have fifteen rubles and I'll buy one at the
horse-market,' said Nikita, who knew that the horse Vasili Andreevich
wanted to sell him would be dear at seven rubles, but that if he took it
from him it would be charged at twenty-five, and then he would be
unable to draw any money for half a year.
'It's a good horse. I think of your interest as of my own--according to
conscience. Brekhunov isn't a man to wrong anyone. Let the loss be
mine. I'm not like others. Honestly!' he shouted in the voice in which he
hypnotized his customers and dealers. 'It's a real good horse.'
'Quite so!' said Nikita with a sigh, and convinced that there was nothing
more to listen to, he again released his collar, which immediately
covered his ear and face.
They drove on in silence for about half an hour. The wind blew sharply
onto Nikita's side and arm where his sheepskin was torn.
He huddled up and breathed into the collar which covered his mouth,
and was not wholly cold.
'What do you think--shall we go through Karamyshevo or by the

straight road?' asked Vasili Andreevich.
The road through Karamyshevo was more frequented and was well
marked with a double row of high stakes. The straight road was nearer
but little used and had no stakes, or only poor ones covered with snow.
Nikita thought awhile.
'Though Karamyshevo is farther, it is better going,' he said.
'But by the straight road, when once we get through the hollow by the
forest, it's good going--sheltered,' said Vasili Andreevich, who wished
to go the nearest way.
'Just as you please,' said Nikita, and again let go of his collar.
Vasili Andreevich did as he had said, and having gone about half a
verst came to a tall oak stake which had a few dry leaves still dangling
on it, and there he turned to the left.
On turning they faced directly against the wind, and snow was
beginning to fall. Vasili Andreevich, who was driving, inflated his
cheeks, blowing the breath out through his moustache. Nikita dozed.
So they went on in silence for about ten minutes. Suddenly Vasili
Andreevich began saying something.
'Eh, what?' asked Nikita, opening his eyes.
Vasili Andreevich did not answer, but bent over, looking behind them
and then ahead of the horse. The sweat had curled Mukhorty's coat
between his legs and on his neck. He went at a walk.
'What is it?' Nikita asked again.
'What is it? What is it?' Vasili Andreevich mimicked him angrily.
'There are no stakes to be seen! We must have got off the road!'
'Well, pull up then, and I'll look for it,' said Nikita, and jumping down
lightly from the sledge and taking the whip from under the straw, he
went off to the left from his own side of the sledge.
The snow was not deep that year, so that it was possible to walk
anywhere, but still in places it was knee-deep and got into Nikita's
boots. He went about feeling the ground with his feet and the whip, but
could not find the road anywhere.
'Well, how is it?' asked Vasili Andreevich when Nikita came back to
the sledge.
'There is no road this side. I must go to the other side and try there,'
said Nikita.
'There's something there in front. Go and have a look.'

Nikita went to what had appeared dark, but found that it was earth
which the wind had blown from the bare fields of winter oats and had
strewn over the snow, colouring it. Having searched to the right also,
he returned to the sledge, brushed the snow from his coat, shook it out
of his boots, and seated himself once more.
'We must go to the right,' he said decidedly. 'The wind was blowing on
our left before, but now it is straight in my face. Drive to the right,' he
repeated with