The next evening when the gates were closed, and all was still, the
piebald continued thus:--
"I had many experiences, both among men and among my own kind, while
changing about from hand to hand. I staid with two masters the longest:
with the prince, the officer of the hussars, and then with an old man
who lived at Nikola Yavleonoï Church.
"I spent the happiest days of my life with the hussar.
"Though he was the cause of my destruction, though he loved nothing and
nobody, yet I loved him, and still love him, for this very reason.
"He pleased me precisely, because he was handsome, fortunate, rich, and
therefore loved no one.
"You are familiar with this lofty equine sentiment of ours. His
coldness, and my dependence upon him, added greatly to the strength
of my affection for him. Because he beat me, and drove me to death, I
used to think in those happy days, for that very reason I was all the
happier.
"He bought me of the horse-dealer to whom the equerry had sold me, for
eight hundred rubles. He bought me because there was no demand for
piebald horses. Those were my happiest days.
"He had a mistress. I knew it because every day I took him to her; and
I took her out driving, and sometimes took them together.
"His mistress was a handsome woman, and he was handsome, and his
coachman was handsome; and I loved them all because they were. And life
was worth living then.
"This is the way that my life was spent: In the morning the man came
to groom me,--not the coachman, but the groom. The groom was a young
lad, taken from among the muzhíks. He would open the door, let the wind
drive out the steam from the horses, shovel out the manure, take off
the blanket, begin to flourish the brush over my body, and with the
curry-comb to brush out the scruff on the floor of the stall, marked
by the stamping of hoofs. I would make believe bite his sleeves, would
push him with my leg.
"Then we were led out, one after the other, to drink from a tub of
cold water; and the youngster admired my sleek spotted coat, my legs
straight as an arrow, my broad hoofs, my polished flank, and back
wide enough to sleep on. Then he would throw the hay behind the broad
rack, and pour the oats into the oaken cribs. Then Feofán and the old
coachman would come.
"The master and the coachman were alike. Neither the one nor the other
feared any one or loved any one except themselves, and therefore
everybody loved them. Feofán came in a red shirt, plush breeches, and
coat. I used to like to hear him when, all pomaded for a holiday, he
would come to the stable in his coat, and cry,--
"'Well, cattle, are you asleep?' and poke me in the loin with the
handle of his fork; but never so as to hurt, only in fun. I could
instantly take a joke, and I would lay back my ears and show my teeth.
"We had a chestnut stallion that belonged to a pair. Sometimes they
would harness us together. This Polkan could not understand a joke, and
was simply ugly as the devil. I used to stand in the next stall to him,
and feel seriously pained. Feofán was not afraid of him. He used to go
straight up to him, shout to him,--it seemed as though he were going
to kick him,--but no, straight by, and put on the halter.
"Once we ran away together, in a pair, over the Kuznetskoë. Neither the
master nor the coachman was frightened; they laughed, they shouted to
the people, and they sawed on the reins and pulled up, and so I did not
run over anybody.
"In their service I expended my best qualities, and half of my life.
Then I was given too much water to drink, and my legs gave out.... But
in spite of every thing, that was the best part of my life. At twelve
they would come, harness us, oil my hoofs, moisten my forelock and
mane, and put us between the thills.
"The sledge was of cane, plaited, upholstered in velvet. The harness
had little silver buckles, the reins of silk, and once I wore a
fly-net. The whole harness was such, that, when all the straps and
belts were put on and drawn, it was impossible to make out where the
harness ended and the horse began. They would finish harnessing in
the shed. Feofán would come out, his middle wider than his shoulders,
with his red girdle under his arms. He would inspect the harness, take
his seat, straighten his kaftan, put his foot in the stirrup, get off
some joke, always crack his whip, though he scarcely ever touched me
with it,--merely for form's sake,--and cry, 'Now off with you!'[9]
And frisking at every step, I would prance out of the gate; and the
cook, coming out to empty her slops, would pause in the road; and
the muzhík, bringing in his firewood, would open his eyes. We would
drive up and down, occasionally stopping. The lackeys come out, the
coachmen drive up. There is constant conversation. Always kept waiting.
Sometimes for three hours we were kept at the door; occasionally we
take a turn around, and talk a while, and again we halt.
"At last there would be a tumult in the hallway; the gray-haired
Tikhon, fat in paunch, comes out in his dress-coat. 'Drive on;' then
there was none of that use of superfluous words that obtains now.
Feofán clucks as if I did not know what 'forward' meant; comes up to
the door, and drives away quickly, unconcernedly, as though there
was nothing wonderful either in the sledge or the horses, or Feofán
himself, as he bends his back and holds out his hands in such a way
that it would seem impossible to keep it up long.
"The prince comes out in his shako and cloak, with a gray beaver collar
concealing his handsome, ruddy, black-browed face, which ought never to
be covered. He would come out with clanking sabre, jingling spurs, and
copper-heeled boots; stepping over the carpet as though in a hurry, and
not paying any heed to me or to Feofán, whom everybody except himself
looked at and admired.
"Feofán clucks. I pull at the reins, and with a respectable rapid
trot we are off and away. I glance round at the prince, and toss my
aristocratic head and delicate topknot. The prince is in good spirits;
he sometimes jests with Feofán. Feofán replies, half turning round to
the prince his handsome face, and, not dropping his hands, makes some
ridiculous motion with the reins which I understand; and on, on, on,
with ever wider and wider strides, straining every muscle, and sending
the muddy snow over the dasher, off I go! Then there was none of the
absurd way that obtains to-day of crying, O! as though the coachman
were in pain, and couldn't speak. 'G'long! Look out there![10] G'long!
Look out there,' shouts Feofán; and the people clear the way, and stand
craning their necks to see the handsome gelding, the handsome coachman,
and the handsome harm....
"I loved especially to outstrip some racer. When Feofán and I would
see in the distance some team worthy of our mettle, flying like a
whirlwind, we would gradually come nearer and nearer to him. And soon
tossing the mud over the dasher, I would be even with the passenger,
and would snort over his head, then even with the saddle, with the
bell-bow;[11] then I would already see him and hear him behind me,
gradually getting farther and farther away. But the prince and Feofán
and I, we all kept silent, and made believe that we were merely out
for a drive, and by our actions that we did not notice those with slow
horses whom we overtook on our way. I loved to race, but I loved also
to meet a good racer. One wink, sound, glance, and we would be off, and
would fly along, each on his own side of the road." ...
Here the gates creaked, and the voices of Nester and Vaska were heard.
[Footnote 9: _pushchaï._]
[Footnote 10: _podi! belegis._]
[Footnote 11: _dugá._]